Another Present
by Ayra Sei Ethari
Summary: Sequel to Another Future: Kya is a Walker now, and she's one last universe away from fulfilling her prophecy. But no one ever said that this last universe would be easy to save, between disbelieving Jedi, plotting Senators, and a looming sacrifice.
1. Trailer & Summary

**_Another Present_**

_Summary:_ Sequel to Another Future: Kya is a Walker now, and she's one last universe away from fulfilling her prophecy. But no one ever said that this last universe would be easy to save, between disbelieving Jedi, plotting Senators, and a looming sacrifice. And that doesn't even begin to cover the darkness that's been waiting for a millennium of lifetimes to take revenge on her.

_Rating:_ T due to the complexity of the storyline and some of the more suggestive parts of the story

_Genre:_ angst (emotional & a little physical) ; romance ; hurt/comfort ; friendship ; mystery

_Canon Character(s):_ Knight Obi-Wan "Ben" Kenobi ; Master Obi-Wan Kenobi (38) ; Darth Sidious/Emperor Palpatine ; Anakin Skywalker (22) ; Padmé Amidala (27)

_OC Character(s):_ Knight Kya Kenobi ; Padawan Aurora Ranor ; Airean Starkiller

_Set During:_ RotS

_Author's Note:_ Another Present is the last installment in my "Another Universe" trilogy. The first story was Another Past and the sequel was Another Future. You could probably understand this story, but I urge you to read the other stories first because I will be pulling a lot of elements from those prequels into this story.

Another thing is that for the characters listed – there are obviously more canon and OCs mentioned, but unless I believe that they will have a POV or play a major role or if I wish to hide some plot twists, they aren't mentioned. Yoda and Mace Windu appear in this story, for example, but listing the entire council would drive me nuts, so . . . yeah.

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><p><strong><em>Trailer<em>**

A big black screen with the words – _Parallel universes exist everywhere, bound by the Force and with identical destinies and faces. Each will follow the same tragic storyline, with love and hate, trust and betrayal, life and death._

_Or, at least, such was the fate._

_Now, things are changing._

**Flash.**

"You look . . . ridiculous," Ben decides.

"Please be quiet."

"I really thought your training was done by now. Weren't you already declared a member of the Order?"

"Formally, yes, Ben, but my duty is not fulfilled."

"Excellent."

**Flash.**

A girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen years veers away from the door and heads towards the belly of the ship, and Anakin and Obi-Wan sigh.

"Where are you going _now_?" Anakin demands.

"I need to find my Mother and my Master, obviously."

They stop. And stare.

And then a woman is standing there, speaking quietly to a man and the girl, before looking up and freezing, before she says, "Rescued by celebrities. I'm flattered, Master Kenobi, Jedi Skywalker."

**Flash.**

Mace Windu stares at Kya. "She called you _Mother_."

Kya remains unmoved, stroking the hair of the girl currently enclosed in her embrace and murmuring soothing words. Behind her lies the smoking ruins of battle droids, sliced to pieces by Kya's fury, and the Council stares, incredulous.

Ben murmurs, "Her Order is different, Master Windu. Aurora is bound to call her Mother, just as she is bound to call me Master."

**Flash.**

"Your security is absolutely _horrendous_, Senators."

The Delegation of 2000's commanding circle freezes, caught, unable to flee, and Kya steps from the shadows, amused.

"I've been listening for the last twenty minutes," she continues. "It was _most_ interesting. No doubt the Jedi Council will find it equally interesting. But I do have to wonder, if you really wished to keep it secret, how did you possibly think you could do so from the Jedi Order with security bugs littering your apartments?"

**Flash.**

"Don't you _dare_ judge me!" Kya hisses, and the entire room trembles with her fury. "I am no Jedi bound to follow your every wish. I am a daughter of the Walkers, sworn to the duty of the Force and the Force alone, and I _will_ go after Ben!"

"That is out of the question. You're too firmly attached," Windu says.

All he gets is a hysterical laugh. "But of course I'm attached! I am a Walker, bound to no form except my soul! Were I to remain without an anchor, I would have gone insane years ago, and you _dare_ to suggest that – "

"Calm yourself!" Yoda interjects.

The room stills, objects returning to their former places, and the storm quiets.

Kya rubs at her face. "Forgive me. A Walker is bound to her soulmate in bonds stronger than any other kind. Ah, but you can already see that, can't you? Already, I'm beginning to go insane."

**Flash.**

Anakin watches Padmé and Kya as they speak and coo at the tiny Skywalker twins with a gaze of frustration, and Ben smiles ruefully at him.

"You must learn to trust her," Ben says finally, "just as I learned to trust Kya. You cannot always save her from everything. Sometimes, you must trust her to save herself – and one day, maybe, even to save you."

Anakin turns to him. "What does it mean to trust?"

"It means to become one with another. To think of the other's soul as your own. To love beyond any rules or limits or sense. To _be_ one."

**Flash.**

"I have one last task," Kya says. "One last battle to settle. And they cannot help me."

"I thought you said that no Walkers could assist you again."

"They can't. I'll be on my own, beyond the reach of the aid of any of my brothers and sisters. But if I do not succeed, then all universes will be beyond the reach of the aid of my brothers and sisters for the rest of time, and free will, courage, compassion, empathy, love – they will all fade, too. It must be done, and I must be the one to do it."

Ben hugs her close, and Anakin, Padmé, and the others smile. "Not alone. Ever."

Kya manages a small smile. "Very well. Then we'll need eight, for the binding."

**Flash.**

_Kya Ranor-Kenobi is the last of her kind, the last of the ancient order of Walkers, destined to forever alter the destiny of the Force – for good or for ill. Now she faces the greatest challenge of all, because she was born a Walker and raised a Jedi, and both sides clamor for dominance. But only one can win, and she must find her own inner peace before she faces the greatest enemy the Force has ever faced._

_Because if she doesn't, then with her fall comes the fall of every universe._


	2. Prologue

__Happy New Year, everyone! Sorry for the late update, but this just . . . took forever to write. Hopefully the rest of the story will come along much faster.

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><p><strong><em>Prologue<em>**

[Excerpts from the journal of Jedi Knight Kya Ranor]

**Entry:**  
>Anakin has taken the Trials, and has passed them with flying colors. He is now officially a full Jedi Knight – and a husband. As soon as the ceremony was over, he had run from the Temple to propose to Padmé Amidala, who accepted without hesitation. They are to be married on Naboo in a few months' time, and they are lucky that they are able to, at least, escape from the eyes of the media when they are secluded in the Temple or in Republica 500.<p>

But I don't begrudge them. Anakin and Padmé were meant to be, and I helped this universe as much for Ben as for them.

Master Windu had frowned at his lack of etiquette, but there is no doubt that the Council will accept this marriage. There is a life-bond between Padmé and Anakin, even though it is faint. But it is there. And I am very impressed at how deep it runs, because Padmé is not Force-sensitive. That makes the bond all the rarer, for Padmé and Anakin can still communicate with thoughts and emotions just like normal Force-sensitives could.

And in any case, I've yet to hear of a marriage that the Council has refused. But that's probably because the Jedi aren't allowed to marry without presenting it to the Council, and that makes Knights and Masters alike think long and hard about their readiness and commitment before they get to that stage, so by the end, the only ones who go through with the presentation are the ones who are truly ready to be married. Needless to say, the amount is small, because so many Knights and Masters have grown into the lifestyle of the generations before, when it was more likely for them to have small flings and affairs than committed relationships.

But that will change, with time.

**Entry:**  
>Today we have finally determined for sure that my daughter possesses a special ability of her own. Just like Winter was blessed with a photographic memory, Aurora has something else, something new that I've never seen before. Her gift is instinctive, though, so she has trouble harnessing it on purpose.<p>

When she is in danger, she can draw raw Force energy to the physical world – like lightning – but instead of an offensive lightning blast, she is able to turn it into a defensive shield of crackling energy that has repelled everything we've managed to throw at her – lightsaber blades, blaster bolts, rock, water, and everything else in between.

We found out completely by accident. We were on a diplomatic mission that was rather peaceful and somewhat boring and so we were caught completely off guard when blaster fire suddenly poured out at us. I felt a surge in the Force, and the next thing I knew Aurora had shielded us within a pale blue crackling shield that absorbed every single blast bolt. When my husband had tried to touch it, he had been shocked – both figuratively and literally, I might add. I, on the other hand, was able to channel the energy moving through Aurora's shield through me and outwards, resulting in a devastating blast of pure energy that completely destroyed our attackers.

Unfortunately, before my husband could interrogate Aurora, she'd fainted.

Her gift is just like mine – instinctual, powerful, and unique. And it mirrors her personality. When faced with a challenge, instead of answering calmly and thinking of a diplomatic solution – which is my husband's way – or not answering and simply utilizing the Force to find a shatterpoint and thus devise a solution – which is my way – Aurora reacts defensively by trying to find a high point, preferably easy to defend, where she can think of something to do.

I worry for her, though. Although my own talent is powerful, it is very difficult to control. I'm not sure how to convey that to my daughter, or to teach her how to use her gift. I just hope that she, like me, will find her own path to utilize her gift.

But I'm not overly surprised. My . . . former . . . Lady Mother had warned me that children of Walkers, although rare, tended to possess some gifts of their own, similar to ours.

Of course, it makes the Council very uneasy. On one hand, it's a marvelous gift. On the other, like all Walker gifts, it's a bit close to some rather Dark Side abilities, and they're worried that she's too young to fully control it just yet.

Too young.

Hmph.

Aurora's nearly sixteen now. She's nearly the same age I was when I first felt my gift manifest completely and tried – and failed – to control it. She'll learn how, between Ben and me. She has her gift for a reason, because children of Walkers are never born _randomly_. The Force does everything with a purpose. Now, we just have to help Aurora find hers, as she helped me find mine.

**Entry:**  
>Aurora's endurance is getting better. She can maintain that shield for almost five minutes straight, even with distractions, and can manipulate it to grow until it encompasses the entire Jedi Council chamber. The only downside is that while she struggles to maintain her concentration on holding the shield, she often is unable to concentrate on everything happening around her.<p>

It is the same downside I used to have when I first began mastering my gift.

I cannot advise her how to overcome this downside. I only learned how to overcome it with time and practice. So only time can tell how long it takes for Aurora to master this.

But in all other things, Aurora is progressing well. Like Obi-Wan and me, she has learned many forms and has created her own personal mix of Form III, Soresu, and Form VI, Niman. This too reflects her personality. Aurora favors defense, and when attacked will defend until she finds a diplomatic solution. However, unlike us, Aurora is a Jedi Sentinel, who wields the traditional yellow blade.

Obi-Wan and I are Jedi Guardians. The difference between Guardians, Consulars, and Sentinels is mainly based upon a joke that is traded among all Jedi, revolving around the situation of a locked door – while a Guardian might bash down a locked door and a Consular would simply knock, a Sentinel would instead pick the lock.

It makes sense, I suppose. Sentinels are rare, nowadays, as many Jedi of the new generations are quite firmly Guardians or Consulars. I can walk into a classroom of younglings and easily determine who has tendencies towards which division.

Aurora fits the description very well. Sentinels take the middle road, most often, and are skilled in both areas – negotiation of the Consulars and blade work of the Guardians. But they also are usually skilled in another area. In Aurora's case, she is very good at drawing on the Force for Battle Meditation, something that Obi-Wan is also relatively skilled at.

I, on the other hand, fail miserably ever time I attempt it. I am much better at creating and sustaining Force-melds. It is in my personality, I guess. I conduct the Force better to sooth differences and make teams among Force-sensitives, particularly Jedi, which is the basis for creating Force-melds. Battle Meditation involves reaching out and influencing everyone, Force-sensitive or not.

And – hey!

Obi-Wan Kenobi, do not scare me like that.

_Obi-Wan_: Who are you talking to?

Myself.

_Obi-Wan_: Is this the infamous journal that you smuggled right under Vader's nose?

And under Palpatine's.

_Obi-Wan_: And under Elizabeth's?

Okay, the first two were on purpose. I did not mean to accidentally bring this journal to the future. I mean, how was I supposed to know that she was going to dump us in the future?

_Obi-Wan_: (laughs)

**Entry:**  
>Augh, I hate debriefing, I hate debriefing, I hate debriefing.<p>

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

The Council's got it in their heads that, as the last Walker, I should begin cataloguing my experiences and storing them in the Archives for future generations to pursue, in case one day in the future a new Walker is born and joins the Jedi Order or . . . well, in case a brother or sister of mine is one day born, so that they'll know how to deal with them.

On one hand, I see their point.

Walkers tend to show strong signs of Force-sensitivity. It's rare that we aren't picked up by the Jedi or the Sith or some other Force-sensitive organization. The Jedi had no idea how to deal with me. Leaving behind records might help shake out some of the mystery that surrounds my Order, so that the Council is prepared to deal with another Walker. Also, it might help clear up some of the stigmas associated with gifts like mine, because other Jedi have tendencies towards supposedly dark gifts who are not in any way connected to Walkers.

At least, I don't think they're connected to Walkers.

But at the same time . . . Anonymity, secrecy, silence – they are weapons of my Order, to defend ourselves against people like the Sith. If they were able to get more information, it would be easier for them to stand against me, and by default the Order. I don't delude myself into thinking that the Archives are one hundred percent protected against intruders.

In fact, I know they aren't, because Palpatine managed to sneak up a few Sith Holocrons right under our noses.

And in any case, there are some secrets about our Order that I _can't_ reveal. The Force would render my voice dead if I tried, because there are some secrets that are meant to _stay_ secrets. Ben can know some of them, as my mate, but I can't broadcast them across the Archives.

I'll have to think of a compromise somehow.

**Entry:**  
>Nothing.<p>

Brain-dead.

No compromise, Council still pushing, exhausted.

**Entry:**  
>Ah. Well.<p>

That was a bad entry, but I suppose I have my reasons. I'll give further details once I finish changing out of my ruined clothes, take a long hot shower, and then get ready to be debriefed by the Council.

After they stop gawking at us, anyways, for returning in the state we returned in.

**Entry:**  
>The debriefing is finished, thank the Force.<p>

Although, I think, to be fair, that the Council cut it short more because they saw my annoyance than because they were finished with the report. It was a fairly simple mission, though, that went wrong in a typical way.

And, well, we have made another shocking discovery. Apparently, even when all three of us are sedated with Force-inhibitors, the bonds between us do not vanish like regular training bonds do. We can no longer send full messages, like we usually can, but we can get the general idea of the location and the emotional state of the others.

I better go back and explain. The life-bond between Obi-Wan and me is first of all very, very deep, as not only has it lasted for well over a decade now, Obi-Wan and I both are very strong in the Force. That bond is unlikely to shatter due to anything short of death. However, the bond between Aurora and me was forged by Elizabeth when I gave her up to Obi-Wan shortly after she was born. And the bond between Obi-Wan and Aurora, well, Obi-Wan forged that after Aurora was accepted into the Order, so that he would never lose track of her.

So the bonds between us basically tie all three of us together, in a complex and potent triangle.

I must say, though, Anakin snickered the whole way back to the ship when he and Qui-Gon rescued us. That was unpleasant torture to endure, although we got revenge when he stepped into a Force-inhibitor ward and lost connection with the Force and so got terribly lost. And it was worth it when I was reunited with Obi-Wan and my daughter.

The bounty hunters who came after us are now sitting in jail waiting for a trial. I'm actually surprised that they managed to get a hold of an ysalamiri to capture us. They're hard to remove, and I would have thought the capabilities beyond the average criminal.

But then again, Ben and I are well known for being hard to capture.

I was wondering why the both of us were summoned for what seemed like a relatively simple treaty mission. All we had to do was preside over the negotiations and make sure nobody cheated or killed someone else, and then put our stamp of approval, and then formally present it to the Senate for ratification. It didn't exactly require the talents of two Jedi Knights. But at least Aurora got her taste of being a Jedi and how fast the weather can change on a mission.

And at least she wasn't hurt.

Because if she had been, well . . .

I am a Jedi, yes. But I am also a mother, and a Walker, and I do not tolerate crimes against my family. Most especially my daughter.

**Entry:**  
>Qui-Gon and Master Windu approached me after the Council session today. The Council believes that I am ready to take the Trials again, and become a Jedi Master, and possibly even sit on the Council itself.<p>

I understand why they want me on the Council, of course.

I'm extremely strong in terms of the Unifying and Living Force. My visions are clearer, more frequent, and stronger, and my intuition concerning many things is much better. And I bring over a lot of knowledge from wandering around in the past and the future. Not all of it's happened yet, and most won't, but the background knowledge helps.

And yet . . .

I don't think I am ready for the Council.

For one thing, I am still a very active field agent. The Order _needs_ me on the field. We are slowly recovering and our numbers are swelling, but children take _time_ before they're ready for solo missions as Knights. And Jedi marriages are rare, and offspring from those marriages even rarer. We need every available Knight we can get. There's even talk of reinstating the accelerated Knighting program that was delayed during my whole debacle on Naboo.

For another, I still don't have a very solid grasp of politics. That's Ben's field. It's why I tend to be act as the warrior, and he's the diplomat.

And I need to focus on training Aurora. It's almost a full-time job. She needs the knowledge that only a Walker can give her about her gifts. And she needs a Walker to watch over her as she trains. Ben is strong, Qui-Gon's experienced, Master Yoda's wise, Master Windu's capable – but they aren't Walkers. Some of the things of my Order are things they cannot deal with, because they are Jedi first.

I don't blame them for that. It doesn't make them any less than me.

But it does mean that I must train her myself.

Times like these, I really wish that I could talk to Lady Elizabeth again. She's trained more apprentices than I ever will. She would know how to train Aurora. I'm stuck relying on my instincts and whatever "maternal air" I have left.

Which isn't much.

No, I think I'm going to refuse the Council's offer. It's honoring, it's astonishing, it's understandable.

But it's not meant for me.

**Entry:**  
>Well, the Council doesn't understand why I rejected them, of course. But at least they've gotten a little better. They have accepted that I'm not merely just a Jedi, and are patient enough to let me find my own course.<p>

Not that their disapproval would have stopped me.

For Force's sake, I went and had children and got married despite their disapproval – refusing a Council seat is rather a petty decision next to that.

Although, granted, there wasn't much they could have done when I became pregnant.

Ben, of course, understood before I started speaking. I have been quite clear in my message that the Jedi Order needs its own watchers, to ensure that it does not fall prey to arrogance and complacency as my . . . home . . . Order did. The watchers need their own watchers, in other words. And as an outsider and a Walker, I am in a position to watch the Order, just as they are in a position to watch me. We'll govern each other, and hopefully, come out the stronger for it.

It's a slightly daunting task.

I'm still in awe of some of these Masters. I'm well aware that without my instinctive ability to drain energy from others, I'm not as much of a match against them. I only beat Master Windu, once, because I slowed him down so much that he was on my level.

It's the reason why now I practice a great deal more on my lightsaber skills. They've suffered from the haphazard training of my youth and then the decades of disuse when I hid and waited for the Rebellion to get ready. I'm still strong enough to protect myself during missions, because every Jedi has that edge, but against another Jedi . . . I'm cooked. Unless I cheat.

Unfortunately, we still haven't found a way to turn _off_ my ability. I've already proven that I'll even lash out at my own mate when I feel endangered, and my ability is a vicious cycle that is hard to be stopped.

Tahl's been working on the problem, digging through the Archives, but there is precious little information on the Walkers.

Ben, though, has not yet tried to convince me to wean myself completely of my special ability. He would rather, I know, see me cheat and win a fight against an enemy than to see me injured because I felt like being noble when a Sith would simply stab me in the back and walk away laughing. And he didn't say anything, but I knew he approved when I turned down the Council.

Ah well.

I suppose we'll just have to live with what we can get.

**Entry:**  
>Oh my stars. Oh my stars. Oh my stars.<p>

I think Ben might be ready to have a heart attack.

**Entry:**  
>Ah, sorry for the short entry, I just . . . couldn't . . . stop laughing.<p>

We were touring the Senate for one of their debates about whether Jedi are civilians or public servants or members of the military like the clone army when Aurora drifted off to mingle among the others. It's not unusual; she's growing up and needs to get experience of diplomacy on her own, and in any case, there are some things that Ben and I discuss with some Senators that really aren't meant for her ears.

And I'm aware that the Jedi Padawans are allowed to . . . to date, and eventually to marry if they so choose.

I just didn't expect . . .

Aurora came back with a Senator's aide, a smooth-talking man a few years older than Aurora called Han Solo. For a long moment, I was almost afraid that I would lose my calm and Aurora would pick up on my memories of Solo from my own galaxy.

Of course, this Solo was different. He wasn't trained under the Empire, although he did attend the military academy and is on his way to graduating with distinct honors and possibly a good career serving as a commander of one of the clone divisions, as the Jedi have slowly been handing back commander and general positions. We are keepers of the peace, not soldiers, and the clones can carry out the day-to-day tasks while we remain Jedi, separate from the army.

There was no hiding this information from Ben, though, and he is . . . not happy.

For one thing, he is worried that Aurora will be distracted from the Order, and therefore will be delayed in taking her Trials. For another, he sees Solo, mainly, as the wisecracking, not always so honorable smuggler in my memories. And . . . well, Ben has overprotective tendencies.

For now, though, we won't do much. Solo was polite and reasonable, and is completely respectful of Aurora's Jedi duties.

It's quite a change, actually.

But I still can't stop looking at him and thinking of him automatically as Leia's husband.

I really hope Aurora doesn't sense that.

**Entry:**  
>Aurora and Solo hold steady, for now, and the Council has done nothing about it, thank the Force. They are keeping an eye on it, but they won't unless Aurora does something remarkably stupid. Or Solo does. Or something comes up.<p>

But for now . . . for now, they leave it to her judgment, and ours.

This is, after all, as much of a test of Aurora's commitment to the Order as anything else.

Jedi can marry. We have amended the rules to that extent. But that will not stop the Council from barring a Jedi from Knighthood if they feel that they cannot balance their social life with their duty to the Order and the Republic. I didn't argue against that; in fact, I argued _for_ it. I want the Jedi to mingle and come out more into the world and stop being so mysterious that people treat us more with fear and awe than genuine appreciation and respect. But we still must maintain a reputation deserving of that respect.

Only a handful Padawans have had their Trials delayed, but a few days of meditation and soul-searching usually sorts it out. They must do it on their own, but for the Trial of Spirit, they would do it anyways, so it's nothing too big.

One apprentice _has_ chosen to forsake the Order for someone else, but he has not fallen to the dark side, and serve just as nobly as a member of his new world's legislature as he did as a Jedi. And if his comments are to be believed, he won't mind it if one of his children, if he has any, chooses to join the Order. We did take away his lightsaber, for that is the weapon of a Jedi, but we did not destroy it, and in actuality, the Council only demands the power pack and crystal from it. They can keep the hilt, if they wish, and they can one day return to us also if they wish.

It is . . . quite different from the old Order.

But also quite refreshing.

There is less resentment, this way. He _chose_ to leave the Order, and he knows he had a choice that only he could make, and everyone else knows this as well. It's something that will, hopefully, keep our ranks strong and free from dissenters that sink into the dark side and become our worst enemies.

We are evolving, this new Jedi Order, and I am proud of that.

**Entry:**  
>And . . . we were worried for nothing, apparently.<p>

Solo has recently returned to Corellia, after telling Aurora that he would like to be nothing more than friends with her. And Aurora apparently returned the sentiment.

So.

It was just a fling, then.

But to be honest, I'm secretly a little glad. I was lucky – Ben is my soulmate, and I had no reason to doubt him and dating experience to judge him against, because he and I were two halves of a whole and there was nothing to keep us apart.

Aurora . . . does not have that.

If she marries, it will be based on her feelings. She may have a soulmate, but she can't find him or her like Ben and I found each other. So it's nice that Solo treated her so well, and gave her a true taste of what she should look for if and when she decides to marry. He acted . . . rather honorably, for someone I remember as a smuggler.

Of course, Solo always _was_ protective of Leia, no matter what.

**Entry:**  
>I think . . . I think I'm starting to get uneasy for no real reason. In the past few days, I've been getting progressively jumpier and . . . well. I haven't jumped at shadows in a very, very long time, and I find myself reaching for the bond more and more often for reassurance.<p>

I don't know why.

This universe is clean and bright and light. There's darkness and shadows, but not enough to make me this uneasy.

Also, it's almost been a full year since Ben and I were displaced to save the other universe. The Walkers said that time was running out, and that I needed to save my last universe as soon as possible, but I can't save a universe until I get there, and I have no way of getting there unless they send me, and they . . . haven't. I haven't gotten a whisper from Lady Elizabeth, or any of the Walkers, or even any visions or promptings from the Force.

Maybe that's the reason.

I was bonded very strongly to Lady Elizabeth, after all. Maybe I'm simply reacting to the loss of that bond. Sort of like withdrawal.

Anyways, I _hope_ that's the reason for my uneasiness.

**Entry:**  
>It's not.<p>

**Entry:**  
>It's getting progressively worse, now. Even the Council is picking up on my unease, and has unease of their own, and I've no idea why. I've said two universes already – if anything, that should have tilted things back into the <em>light<em>, not into the dark.

Unless the time has come for the pendulum to swing the other way?

Ben shares my unease. He worries that maybe the Order of Walkers has fallen too weak to send me on my last mission, and he knows that I have no way of doing it on my own.

But most of all, he worries as to what might possibly have kept the Walkers from contacting us for so long. Usually, I receive something every once in a while – a vision, guidance, something, anything. It's rare for them to strand on of their own without _something_.

Even the Force offers me little comfort.

Which, considering that I am a daughter of the Force, spells trouble all on its own.

**Entry:**  
>I had a very disturbing vision last night. It's even worse than what I experienced in the Clone Wars. I've never felt the Force so clouded in a vision.<p>

Luke Skywalker, in my vision, was head of the Jedi Order. He had a son, Ben, and was married to the former Emperor's Hand, Mara Jade. I recognized this Mara Jade as the woman that many years ago I had travelled to Tatooine to warn my Master of, the year I met Luke in 0 BBY.

Leia, too, was married and had children. Three, I think, but one was dead. Jacen and Jaina Solo were twins, and Anakin Solo, who I gathered had died a hero during a terrible war.

I could only stand by and watch as this Jacen Solo fell the dark side and utilized terrifying Force tactics – he sent troops to Ossus and slew all the Padawans there, and proclaimed the Jedi once again traitors to be hunted down and defeated. He used Battle Meditation and a technique called "flow-walking" to walk back and forward in time. He even had the audacity to fire upon the ship of his lover, Queen Tenel Ka of Hapes, when she asked him to back down.

His fall reminded me way too much of Anakin Skywalker's own fall to the dark side.

I know that Elizabeth was sending me a message. Elizabeth told me many years ago that as a Walker, I am in a unique position. I am trying to change the path of the Chosen One . . . permanently, for every single universe, so that the galaxy does not have to suffer. I have changed the paths of two universes, one where I was thrown back in time and one where I was thrown forward in time. I must change one more universe to change all of the universe's fates.

Elizabeth was telling me, through this vision, that I must do as this Jacen Solo, this Darth Caedus, did and master other techniques of the Force from other Force-users, such as the Fallanassi and the Aing**-**Tii monks.

I have no doubt that this will take many years, as most of these groups are rather reclusive and volatile towards those who attempt to reveal more about them. But I am prepared to do it – how would I not be? I was raised a Jedi and trained as a Walker.

This is my destiny.

[end of journal entries for Kya Ranor]


	3. Chapter 1

A/N: Day 1 of Midterm Marathon! For new readers, it doesn't mean much except that I post a new chapter every day since it's midterms and I think we'd all need something to relax over, and usually I relax by reading ff. So, here we go!

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><p><strong><em>Chapter One<em>**

~ _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ ~  
>When I finally saw Kya again, I thought my heart would burst with joy. She looked absolutely beautiful – with her dark brown hair falling in a waterfall around her, her glittering sapphire eyes sparkling with happiness, her aura singing as the bonds between us all woke up once more.<p>

Twelve months ago Kya had received a startling vision. Her resulting panic had been so terrifying that I had nearly fallen off the bed before I had come to my senses enough to shake her out of it. Even the Council Masters had felt the tremors of her vision, the fear and the horror and the _pain_ permeating her own power to the point where it was leaking beyond even the formidable shields that she and I had developed over the three years we had been together. Then it had taken me two days to calm her down enough, soothing her with words and the Force, before she had been able to start exploring the potential messages of her vision. I had encouraged it, even finally moving Kya to a more secluded section of Coruscant to assist her in coming to a conclusion, because generally between the two of us, Kya was more in tune with the Living Force than the Unifying – the present, the here, the now, not the future. She wasn't used to dealing with visions. I was. And I had thought that between the two of us, and if need be the Council, things could easily be handled.

That is, until I had realized what conclusion she was coming to.

Of course, Kya had refused to share the visions with me. Or rather, strangely, she had. Usually Kya was very open about anything to do with the Walkers. I had given her space, at the time, hoping she would come to me eventually.

So I had never seen it coming.

And that was when Kya had come to a conclusion that she needed to study more Force-techniques from other Force-users, and had departed the next day without a backward glance.

As she had journeyed farther and farther from Coruscant, my bond with her had been stretched out and had eventually grown so silent that all I could get was the vaguest _notdead_ sensation. The separation had been painful. I had grown used to having Kya nearby, to feeling her mind brushing against mine and her emotions and comments flowing to me.

Of course, Kya had suffered as well. As her mate, I grounded her to this universe and sanity, and pulling away from me so abruptly and completely had hurt her. But she had grit her teeth and hid her hurt as well as any actor, because that was her duty, and she accepted it with the same devotion that her Clone Wars had driven into her, and despite everything, it was a characteristic that I would not have tried to take away from her because it made her _her_.

And it helped that I wasn't the only one who had been shocked and sorry to see her go. Tahl had expressed sorrow at her departure, while the Council had expressed disappointment and an inquiry to learn what had caused Kya, by far one of the most powerful Force-users in the universe, to become so scared. We had had no answers.

In fact, we _still_ had no answers.

_You'll get them. When . . . When I'm ready_, Kya said, sounding strangely uneasy despite having been the one to arrange this pick-up.

_Have you done what you set out to do?_ I asked simply.

She hesitated. _Yes. I have done I can do._

I opened my arms and drew her in, carefully yet steadily. _Then, my love, I think it is time for you to come home_, was all I said. _Everyone has missed you. And you can't do anything if you are exhausted as I can sense you are._

_I'll be fine._

_That was in the future tense, my love._

Kya smiled, resting in my embrace with the tiredness of a job thoroughly completed. Here, now, was the time when she would relax to reveal her vulnerability, her mortality – for all her power, she really was just another person at the end of the day. It was my job to remind her of that, and to be her shelter when the storm threatened, and it was something I knew she would need know, after twelve months apart.

_Mom, Dad, _please_,_ came Aurora's annoyed thoughts. _Can it wait?_

"My dear, you aren't really one to judge," Kya murmured gently, as we separated knowing our daughter would hear regardless. "Shall I remind you of Han Solo?"

"He's dating Leia; it's in the past now," Aurora said dismissively. Then she sighed and gave in, moving to hug Kya tightly in a rare display of affection. It wasn't that Aurora was cold-hearted or that she still was wary of Kya as her mother. She just wasn't prone to overly emotional displays. But she loved Kya as much as Kya loved her, and she had missed her greatly.

"Now who's being over-emotional?" I teased.

_Shut up, Dad. You've been pining worse than me._

"I do not _pine_, Padawan."

Kya cleared her throat, releasing Aurora with a gradual loosening her embrace, allowing Aurora's teenage independent streak to make the break away from her instead of attempting to restrain or command her. Kya was always better at dealing with the inevitable teenage issues – but then again, she was usually more in tune with Aurora, being her technical Lady Mother. Aurora was not a Walker, but she was a child of one, and as such had some similar powers only a Walker could truly handle and teach, so we shared Aurora's teaching – I, as her Jedi Master, and Kya, as her Lady Mother.

"Perhaps we should move this argument elsewhere?" she said. "I was told that it was best to get back and make my report."

Aurora looked hopefully to me.

"No," I said firmly, without even waiting to hear the argument out.

"But Dad . . . ."

"_No_ is no, Padawan."

Aurora looked to Kya. Generally, when I stopped calling Aurora by name or as my daughter, and instead used the formal titles, it was an indication that I had gone as far as I would on the subject and would not budge any further – and a request to remind Aurora that I was still her Jedi Master and she still my very young Jedi apprentice. So Aurora knew she'd get no farther with me.

On the other hand, _Kya_ was quite a different story.

"What's this about, my dear?" she asked, reaching for my hand even as we began walking towards the ship.

"I've gone through most of the necessary training," Aurora explained. "But Dad still refuses to let me do anything but those ridiculous flight simulators."

"Have you passed all of them?"

"Yes!"

Kya gave her a searching look. "I was referring to the actual pilot tests, my dear."

Aurora looked away.

_To be truthful_, I began, and Kya looked to me, _I haven't actually let her sit for them yet. The Council is still . . . debating the merits of allowing young Padawans to become certified._

_Aurora is a Sentinel. They spend most of their assignments in space. How can she do that –_

_They won't assign her to Sentinel duty, Kya, and you know that._ I sighed, rubbing at a temple. _As adverse as they are to special treatment, you must admit that with Aurora's talents, sector patrol duty might happen as, perhaps, a year or two of her solo assignments when she is Knighted, but she's strong. Strong enough that she's more likely to end up as one of the 200, just like we are._

Well, technically, just as I was. Kya chose her own assignments.

But the 200 were the Knights and Masters, not counting those tending to the children or the teachers or the Council Masters, who lodged in the Temple and really only left for special assignments. Most of the others of the Order were assigned to certain sectors or planets, and patrolled them for most of their lives, or were rotated between that and playing bodyguard to the Senate on Coruscant. Usually, the Sentinels carried out that role – barely any Jedi with blue or green lightsabers were granted those roles, so they had come to be called, in general the Sentinels.

And Aurora _was_ a Sentinel. Her lightsaber was yellow, just like every Sentinel.

However, Aurora was also different. She was the daughter of two strong Jedi, Jedi very well known. The Republic would notice if one so well known as her was assigned to mere border patrol.

Kya's steps faltered. _I had forgotten_, she said, and her sadness crept into her thoughts. _During the wars, the stronger the Jedi, the more likely you were assigned to border patrol. You were the last defense. The 200 were kept in reserve, mainly, for the children, and for the Jedi who flew in and won battles and then left._

_That is neither here nor now, my love._

"But I've gone through all my training, and the flight simulators, and I've been dying to try her out. . ."

And here was my last reason for not wanting to let Aurora fly: She was just too damned eager to.

I hated flying. Kya was generally mildly annoyed. Anakin, however, _loved_ it, and I hadn't let him pilot anything I had been flying in for months now after the last time because he loved it, and Aurora had the exact same look on her face right now.

Kya smiled. "Well, I suppose at least you can handle the lift-off, my dear. And if you handle her well, then, yes, you can do it. Just try not to give your father too much of a heart attack, will you?"

A blink, and my daughter was gone, racing off into the distance.

I sighed. "Why, oh _why_, do I subject myself to this?"

"Because that's who you are."

"You make me sound like a giant bleeding heart," I grumbled, bracing myself for a stomach-churning lift-off where Aurora strayed within a micrometer of breaking every single traffic law in the entire universe just to show that she _could_, which was completely Anakin's fault for training her that way, and Tahl's for encouraging her and laughing any of my excuses off with, "Obi-Wan, you hate flying anyways."

Which was true. Didn't mean I had to like it.

"Obi-Wan, please, relax. Anakin's never crashed since Tatooine."

"Can we go over just how bad that crash was?"

"He's my brother."

"Not biologically."

"_Yes_, biologically, we both can claim the Force as our parent," Kya reminded me, laughing quietly at my discomfort.

"When she crashes the ship, you get to explain it to the Council."

Kya smiled. _I've missed you,_ she said, and I knew exactly what she could not put into words to say.

Mates were more than souls bound to a Walker's soul, or a life-bond that entangled two minds together for the rest of their life. I grounded Kya to reality and this universe, and my physical presence at her side meant as much as my mental presence echoing in the bond with which the Force had tied us together so many years ago.

_And I, you. Shall we make up for the lost time?_

Kya laughed and kissed me, and I let her, relishing the feel her safely within my arms and the warmth of her mind next to my own.

_Yes, we shall._


	4. Chapter 2

A/N: Day 2 of Midterm Marathon! And we have major problems coming up. . .

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><p><strong><em>Chapter Two<em>**

~ _Aurora Ranor_ ~  
>Mom and Dad were always . . . lovey-dovey after being united from time spent apart. Such separations were rare, on account of said lovey-dovey-ness, but when they happened, they became rather nauseating to be around.<p>

I was happy for my parents, of course. They fit each other perfectly, like puzzle pieces, and they were a great team.

But did they really need to be in each other's space so much?

_Mindful of your thoughts, my daughter_, Mom said suddenly. _You're supposed to be flying, not contemplating how much your father and I are in love, you know. And also, know that if you crash this, I will whole-heartedly agree with your father to never let you drive for sometime yet. So. Pay attention, will you?_

_Yes, Lady Mother_, I muttered, rolling my eyes.

She did have a point, though. A very valid point. And I did really want to get past pilot training.

So I paid attention.

And it was easy, so easy, to guide the ship out and up. I could show off my skills perfectly.

Mom actually appreciated them, usually. Dad usually didn't. But he hated flying anyways, so I didn't really count his thoughts on the matter.

My mother eventually sat down in the pilot's chair, looking exhausted but pleased, and my father stood beside her, one hand resting gently on her shoulder, watching my every move like a hawk, as though afraid that he was holding the ship in balance by the mere force of his gaze alone. It was stifling, to say the least.

"We're going home?" I asked, keying up the navicomputer.

My mother smiled. "Yes, we are. I need to file a report with the Council – "

My father reached over her and keyed in a new set of coordinates. "No, not just yet, my love," he countered. "I've asked for some time off, near Ragoon-6, and it's been granted. We'll go there for a few days before we report to the Council. I think we all need some time off."

I pouted. "I've already _done_ a training mission, Dad."

"This isn't one."

That caught my attention. My Dad hadn't taken a vacation in all the time I'd ever known him. Not even once. It was always assignment after assignment, even if it was true that sometimes we had weeks between assignments were we just sort of stayed in the Temple and trained and meditated. But a real vacation? No way. And now . . .

"Can I fly us there?"

My dad's jaw tightened.

My mother shrugged. "Go ahead, my dear. Between the three of us, we should be able to halt a burning ship's descent."

"Mom!"

She smiled, kissed me on the head, and then disappeared into her quarters. My father straightened and looked after her, clearly torn between going after her and babysitting me. And as I didn't want to be babysat, I raised my shields to distance myself from my bonds and said, "Dad, scoot. I can handle this. I'm not going to crash the ship. All I have to do is just plug in the coordinates and set the jump. It's baby stuff."

"Don't burn the ship."

"Yes, Master," I said as sarcastically as possible.

He kissed me on the head too, and then left after my mom, and I really didn't want to know what were doing, so I stared very hard at the coordinates and raised my shields.

~ _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ ~  
>It was the strangest thing that woke me up – almost . . . singing, in the Force, a gentle rhythm like a stone leaping across the water, insistent but so gentle I barely registered it. After a moment, I even ignored it, simply pulling Kya closer and starting to drift back off, because if it was a warning of danger from the Force, it would be a lot stronger.<p>

Kya shifted in my arms, pressing closer against me, her skin cool and soft, and I kissed her again drowsily.

We were safe, and she was with me, and we were going home.

Of course, the separation had pained her, but now we were one again, bound by mind and body and heart, and all was well. We would sleep well tonight, Kya safe in my arms where she belonged, and Aurora just a few rooms away from us, safe and sleeping sound.

And blocking our bonds, it seemed, which had probably been a good idea on her part.

Then it screamed.

I sat bolt upright, nearly falling off the bed in my surprise and jostling Kya so badly that she nearly fell off too.

"What the – "

"Dad! Mom!"

Aurora's voice made us both abandon our attempts to reach out to the Force to try and solve the mystery. Instead, I rolled off the bed, pulling on my tunic, boots, and pants as quickly as possible as Kya did the same. We checked each other for how we looked, which was better than stumbling out in our birthday suits, and then ran out as one, our fear for Aurora bleeding so strongly that it was hard to tell who felt what.

Aurora was standing stock-still in front of the navicomputer, looking shocked.

"I swear – I didn't do _anything_!" she cried.

I swung myself into the pilot seat and swore. Everything was flashing red or completely dead, and the engine was completely going off the grid, as was the navicomputer.

Yes, something was very, very wrong.

Kya's hand strayed to her lightsaber. "This speaks of interference from someone of my Order," she said, frowning. "Nothing else can so completely change – "

We all careened wildly as the ship jolted so bad that our gravity nearly reversed.

Then we dropped out of space, and it was _bad_. Ships were all over us, firing and firing and firing, and this ship – was not primed for open space combat. We barely had any weapons. Our comm unit was shot. We had no identification. And our shields were cooked, as was the engine. And every time I reached out, seeking other Jedi around to broadcast a message of _help_ and _Jedi present_, it rebounded as if off an invisible wall or something.

Beside me, Kya winced. Clearly, she had tried and failed to do the same.

"What's going on?" Aurora whispered.

I shot her a sidelong glance. _Kya, would the Walkers drag a sixteen-year-old into this mess?_ I wondered.

_I was sixteen, Obi-Wan._

_Kriff._

I strapped myself in and gestured for Kya and Aurora to do the same. "I'll try and help us land. We can contact the Temple afterwards, I suppose, and figure out what in the name of the Force is going on. Aurora, keep an eye on our shields."

My command was rendered null five minutes later.

"Dad, we have _no_ shields!"

I swore again, jerking the ship abruptly to the left and then to the right. But these fighters were _good_, and the block was highly distracting. It was hard, so very hard, to try and reach out and guide the ship away from incoming fire, and even with Kya's mind touching my own and expanding my own power, I still got barely anything.

"Escape pod?"

Kya cast her glance over the control panels. "Not functioning. And even if it was, they already took it out. Mostly."

"Crash-landing it is, then," I muttered.

I fought with the ship, but in the end it was a mostly forgone conclusion. Deprived of an escape route, unable to contact any other Jedi, dodging fire left and right – yes, we were done for. This ship was not meant for fighting.

Ten minutes later, we were billowing smoke and sputtering fire as we crashed into the planet. The impact was bad enough, but the explosion was worse, and I was flung so abruptly away from Kya and Aurora that I lost my grip on the Force and banged my head – and the world went utterly, completely black.


	5. Chapter 3

A/N: Day 3 of Midterm Marathon! And here comes the wake-up call and the welcome committee. . .

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><p><strong><em>Chapter Three<em>**

~ _Kya Ranor_ ~  
>Coming to full consciousness was painful, and I bit back a whimper of pain as fire lanced across my arms and stomach as my body informed me, all at once, everywhere that I ached from being thrown from the explosion of our ship. But that wasn't what alarmed me. What alarmed me that it was almost completely silent in my head, a distant, deafening silence to the roaring pain of my body.<p>

I forced my eyes open with a gasp and tried to sit up before I remembered it was likely a very bad idea.

When the pain had receded somewhat, I lifted my head and looked around. I was sitting in a deserted little piece of land that looked like a meteor had hit it and burned out every possible life-form within its radius, which did not . . . bode well for me. At all.

_Us_, I reminded myself. Us, because Obi-Wan and Aurora were _fine_, they had to be –

_Lady Mother, why in the galaxy's name did you drag my _daughter_ into this?_ I thought, annoyed, even though I knew she couldn't – wouldn't respond to me, since she was technically no longer my Lady Mother.

Obi-Wan – I had accepted that he could, would join me on some of my missions. But he was my mate. If he was in trouble, I had the right to intercede and the ability to give him strength.

Aurora?

Not so much. She was a child of the Walkers, technically, but my bond to her was like a spider strand compared to the thick coiled rope of the life-bond tying Obi-Wan to me and me to him. If she was in danger, I could probably sense that she was alive, but if she was hit by a Force-inhibitor, I would have no way of helping her across the bond. I would have to be physically present to override those drugs. With Obi-Wan, there was no such need.

I reached out to the two bonds that lay in the back of my mind, grasping for them as though physically shaking them.

One immediately flared to life; the other flickered and dimmed.

I swore. Obi-Wan's mind was close to me, and awake now, and he could easily reach for my strength if he needed it. Aurora had no such option.

"Kya?"

Obi-Wan stumbled over a low rise into view, face streaked with dirt and ash, tunic and pants torn and dirtied. But he was steady as he walked over to me, growing steadier with each step, reaching out to the Force and growing stronger with each moment. He would be fine, I knew instinctively, once he had assured himself that Aurora and I were safe.

I pushed myself to my knees and hissed. Something vital was bruised, it felt like – a rib, perhaps.

Obi-Wan dropped to his knees beside me, pushing aside my own hand, and pressed against my stomach until I hissed again. He paused, and I felt the Force curl towards me, picking at the sensation of pain and following it back to the source, and then reading it.

There was a reason he was better at healing himself than I was, even though I had greater experience in wars.

"Bruised," he said finally. "But not broken. A day or two of rest, maybe, and you won't even feel it. I can push you into a healing trance tonight, and we can go fro there, I guess."

"And you?"

"A few scrapes. Nothing serious. It's you I'm worried about." He lifted his gaze and roved his eyes around us, frowning slightly. "Where's Aurora?"

"I don't know. I can feel her – just barely – but . . . I've got nothing."

Obi-Wan tilted his head and reached for the Force. I felt it swell with power, felt the bond between Aurora and me sing in response as he probed along his own bond, seeking our daughter. Yet he didn't fare much better than me, if the frown that deepened was any indication, and _that_ did not bode well either, because she should have at least woken up at our joined poking and responded back, somehow, somewhere.

That she did not . . .

"North," Obi-Wan said finally, after a moment. "We can start working our way towards her and hope that she wakes up sometime soon."

"She can't be too far. The explosion should have only propelled her very close to us." I didn't voice my fear about what might have happened, because for our bonds to be so weak – and potentially blocked – and for her to be so far from us when logically it was impossible smacked of several things. Usually Dark side things.

And Aurora . . .

She was well-trained, and strong. But she was not yet a true Jedi. And the Force wouldn't protect her as fiercely as it defended me. Nor did she have some of the rights that the Walkers did that I could use to my advantage.

Obi-Wan looked down at me, and his gaze softened as he leaned in to kiss me. "We'll find her. And then we'll contact the Council and go home. Deal?"

"Deal."

I took his proffered hand and attempted to stand, but –

I collapsed again as sharp needles ran up and down my leg, causing the muscles to tremble violently as my breath left me in a single, large huff. Apparently, I had neglected to notice one particular injury, which was not helpful at all, because I did need my ankle to walk normally, and I didn't want to go to a strange hospital wing and try to explain myself.

"Kya!"

"Ankle," I spat between gritted teeth.

Obi-Wan's gaze went distant, and the pain abruptly dulled, so much so that its absence shocked me greater than its original manifestation. I sighed in relief.

"You are definitely going into a healing trance afterwards," he said sternly. "And for the record, I dislike fiddling with your pain sensors. I'm always afraid that I might accidentally cut sensation completely."

"Can we worry about this later?"

He sighed and hauled me gently to my feet, watching me carefully for any signs of discomfort. "Stubborn to the last."

"Where do you think Aurora got it from?"

~ _Aurora Ranor_ ~  
>It was wet, dirty, and smelly.<p>

That was what I registered first about where I was.

It wasn't probably the greatest assessment, but my legs ached, my arms were killing me, and my head – my head was _horrible_. I felt like it was going to explode but couldn't be released, so waves of energy were pounding at the corner of my skull, _bang bang bang bang bang bang_, until I was driven crazy.

_Accept that pain is the body's way of telling you that you are hurt. And then deal with it._

My father's words.

I focused on them, and reached for the Force, allowing the hurt to flow smoothly away from me and into the Force until I could breathe and open my eyes and look around without dying.

I was in a shed.

I frowned. I had expected to be out in a field . . . of some sort, perhaps near my parents. I had _not_ expected to end up in a dinky little shield that had a leaking roof and smelled like it had never been swept out since it had been built. And speaking of my parents . . .

I reached out to the two bonds that bound me to my father and mother. They had stood the tests of time and alternate universes, and if I had ever been sure of one thing, it was that I would always, always have them. Master-Padawan bonds could be broken without death or ignored until they weakened to the point where they had no effect. The bonds of love and family and blood – they could not be broken without death, and I knew I would always have my mother and father.

And that, of course, was when I bounced off a solid wall that left me dazed and knowing only that they were still, somewhere, vaguely alive.

_Ah, nice try, my dear_, something whispered.

I stiffened, and my hand crept towards my waist for the lightsaber that –

Wasn't there.

"Kriff."

My voice echoed oddly in the small space, and I slid off the bed, only then noticing that there was a _shackle_ attached to my wrist, binding me firmly to the bed's railing and giving me perhaps only three steps away from the bed before it was fully taut.

"Double kriff."

Well, at least my mother had taught me how to pick locks.

I had just started to pick at it, relying on the vaguest Force-sense of how the lock mechanism worked, when the door burst open and a squad of white-clad clones walked in, four with weapons trained on me, one holding a key, and another holding a syringe and needle that was filled with some strange clear solution.

"Hands up," one of them ordered.

I did as they said, slowly. Clones were not allowed to arrest Jedi, not without an order from the High Council, but – perhaps they didn't know I was one?

Still, where was my lightsaber?

I let my gaze rove across the room and the clones, searching for weaknesses. If these were defectors or something, well, at least the clones weren't Force-sensitive. I could probably handle or distract them long enough to find my lightsaber. Maybe. Hopefully.

"Kneel."

In the time I had spent studying them for potential weaknesses, they had me cuffed with really tight electroshock cuffs, strong enough to even knock out a Jedi unless said Jedi had a lightsaber or was prepared for the shock and used the Force to circumvent it.

Unfortunately, it was not my lucky day.

My knees gave out as my vision went spotty and my mouth filled with ash, electricity rippling through my body too fast for me to counter it. Maybe my mother or father could have, being more experienced with the Force, but _kriff_, it _hurt_, there was no way I could counter that again without a lot of warning and sleep and more energy.

If I even could.

"You'd do best to do as they say, my dear apprentice, _before_ they activate the cuffs," came a smooth, very familiar voice.

I looked up and gaped at the face of Master Dooku.


	6. Chapter 4

A/N: Day 4 of Midterm Marathon! The new universe makes itself known to the Kenobi family, and it does so via a bucket of cold water. . .

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><p><strong><em>Chapter Four<em>**

~ _Count Dooku_ ~  
>The apprentice I'd appropriated from the clones that had been so easily influenced via the Force was different.<p>

For one thing, it was extremely difficult to try and get into her mind. Usually apprentices had half-formed walls of mundane thoughts that were easily pushed past and twisted. Perhaps even whole walls if they had had Masters with the skill, the time, and the devotion to place some barriers for them before sending them off into battle. At most, they had a steel wall, but one so fragile that it crumpled after a nice long talk and some Force-inhibitors.

Hers did not.

It had been six hours, and she was still, somehow, despite being drugged out and curled into a fetal ball of pain, fighting me. Her walls – and she had many – were thick as a bomb shelter, and although not flawless, rather more skilled than most.

A challenge. It would be nice, breaking her.

I settled a bit more comfortably in my chair, leaving her to gasp on the floor, shuddering and covered with a sheen of sweat.

"You have impressive walls, my dear," I told her nonchalantly. "Who taught you?"

Maybe it was because she was tired, or because she was confused, or just _because_, but I finally got an answer to the question that had been bugging me the most. Yes, Master Yoda had very strong shields, but these had the strangest flavor to them. These shields had _emotions_ tied into them, strong and powerful and binding, almost like a lover's touch, but that was ridiculous because I would have known at once if it was a lover – but it couldn't be family, which was my next guess, Jedi didn't have families.

"My Lady Mother," she spat past gritted teeth.

I lowered the glass I had nearly been about to sip from. That was an odd arrangement of words. But still – a Jedi apprentice, knowing her own mother? Being trained by her own mother?

Here we were again, clear evidence of the Council growing outdated.

"She trained you well," I said sincerely.

The girl glared at me from under her red-gold locks, eyes fierce despite the pain she had to be in. She was a warrior, then. A good fighter. But yet untested; I could tell that her shields were mainly unconscious, and probably not even hers.

However, that just made me more interested.

A Jedi willing to defy the Order's Code and have a child, and _train her child_, and who was powerful enough to shield the girl's mind against a Dark Lord of the Sith?

She would make a rather useful ally.

And often, where a Master went, so did her or his apprentice, and this girl would be a lovely acolyte. Much better than Ventress, to be sure. Powerful and trained, so there might be some habits I would have to retrain her in, but already she was showing some of the tenets of the Sith Order and clearly had no problems with breaking some of the Order's strongest rules.

Because one day Sidious would have to step down, and I would need an apprentice then.

This girl would make a fine addition.

"And who is your mother, my dear?"

"No one who will ever side with you," was her immediate response, as if she had recognized her mistake and was trying, to late, to cover up for it.

I smiled gently at her. "It must be hard, hiding such a truth from your Order," I said as gently as possible. "Being shunned for being brave enough to stand against the rules, to be your own person, to do what is right. Or am I wrong?"

She spat blood onto the carpet. "How is _this_ right?"

Fiery to the last.

"My dear, you'll find that things are rather more complicated out in the real galaxy than in that little comfortable Temple of yours."

"I'm been out on the field, I'm not completely ignorant," she shot back.

"And what do you know of the field?"

The girl eyed him like he was the scum on the bottom of the darkest pit in the biggest black hole in existence. "I know about death. I know about pain. I know about starvation. I know about losing someone you love more than yourself. I know about life." She returned my gaze coolly. "And what do _you_ know, Dooku?"

"I ask the questions."

She shrugged awkwardly, hissing as the movement pulled at the raw marks around her wrists where the electrocuffs dug in. "Okay. So ask."

I wanted to ask many questions.

What came out was: "What are you?"

Because she was not normal, and something about her set my teeth one edge. Something about her screamed _dangerous_, just as the Skywalker brat did sometimes when he was actually putting in some good effort at targeting me, but with her it was effortless, as though she knew the Force protected her and trusted it entirely, so entirely that it actually _did_ protect her.

"Nothing you've ever met before."

I leaned forward. "I have studied all the lore of the Jedi before. There is nothing about a Lady Mother in anything. So, you are lying."

"Am I?"

_You must be._ I had turned the Archives inside out during my years at the Temple. There had been nothing, not even a whisper, of something like that. _Perhaps she is insane_, I concluded unhappily. Certainly if she was, her walls would be strong, the Force caging her power from destroying her if she lost control.

"The Jedi are not the only source of lore, Master Dooku," she said lowly. "And if I were you, I'd start preparing, because my Lady Mother _is_ coming, and she won't be very pleased with you when she gets here."

I signaled to the clones. "No, I think I'll wait for her to come to me. I've got just the right thing for her."

One handed me the syringe while two others hauled her to her feet, twisting her arms brutally so that she staggered and drew back, unable to do anything but listen to me.

"You see, there is this new little invention I've been wanting to try out. It is an ingenious little thing. Cutting of a Jedi from the Force – that's nothing, almost every person who can get their hands on a Force-inhibitor can do it. Now, cutting them off while dangling it in front of their face? That is just _precious_."

Fear flickered over the girl's face. Then calm certainty. "You can't deprive me of the Force."

She spoke like it was a rule of the universe.

I stood. "As you think."

Jenna's calculations were, as usual, perfect. After one second, confusion flitted over her face. After five, fear. After ten, the screaming started.

~ _Kya Ranor_ ~  
>Pain and panic shot through me, causing me to nearly fall over, and what was worse, Obi-Wan staggered as well.<p>

_Aurora._

Without even thinking about it, we were running in tandem, feet pounding against the ground, nearly flying forward as we pushed ourselves towards the beacon of distress that shown so clearly in my mind that my teeth ached.

We found Aurora clutching her head in a shallow little alleyway, moaning in pain.

I fell to my knees in front of her, ignoring the warning twinge from my ankle. "Aurora, what – speak to me – what is it?"

_I can't._

And that was followed by another high shriek of pain that roiled through her thoughts and – Aurora was _drawing away from me_. She was hiding behind her walls, going distant, placing separation between the bonds that linked us, trying to hide from something that caused her pain so much that she could barely focus.

I put my hands on her face. "Sweetheart, look at me – "

But before I could attempt to use the Force to cleanse her body of anything that might be hurting me, a shock net fell on us.

Obi-Wan's hand shot out, and the net ripped to pieces inches before us. Then he was leaping over us, roaring, "Get down!" His lightsaber was out and swinging as he advanced steadily at the ones firing at us, and I tried as best as I could to focus on my shaking daughter.

I reached for the bond.

Pain rippled again, making my vision go spotty from the strength of it.

Every time she touched the Force, she screamed.

Pure rage rose up in me. To dangle that in front of a child of a Walker, someone the Force had such direct ties to that Aurora practically lived and breathed the Force, just as I did – that was a fate crueler than any kind of torture in existence. I would not – could not allow that, not for my daughter, because she was my daughter and I was her Lady Mother and no one hurt a child of the Force like that without payment.

I pushed myself to my feet just in time to feel a lightsaber against my neck.

"Ah. So you must be her Lady Mother. Nice to meet you."

I reached out to the Force and _pushed_, absorbing the lightsaber so it passed harmlessly through my neck, and whirled around, furious –

It was Dooku.

He looked utterly confused and startled, but _it was Dooku_. With a red lightsaber. Wearing the trappings of a Sith Lord. And oh, stars above, that could only mean one thing, and that was that we had been dumped into a universe in the middle of the Clone Wars, and of all the places to drop my daughter when she was still untested, this would have been number #2 on my list of the worst places possible.

Number #1 was, of course, the netherworld itself.

"_You_!"

Dooku shrugged elegantly, flicking his lightsaber on again. "Yes, me."

A needle pierced my neck.

The Force _roared_ in pain now, and I crumpled soundlessly. The Force was my connection to life itself – to cut it off from me was to kill me. And now they were trying to actually separate a Jedi from the Force, enough so that they could feel it but also feel pain if they attempted to use it, but I wasn't a Jedi, I was a Walker, to use the Force for me was to live and to stop using it was to die, and right now I couldn't even _breathe_ from the shock and the pain, because I was a full daughter of the Force now and every time before when I'd been cut off from the Force it had never been as bad as this because I was still young and not a Walker and –

The bonds in the back of my mind went silent.

I realized, a second later, that I was unconscious, and then my mind went off-line too.


	7. Chapter 5

A/N: Day 5 of Midterm Marathon! We enter – kudos to those who guessed right, btw – Revenge of the Sith. So, from now on, to avoid confusion, "Ben" indicates Kya's mate, and "Obi-Wan" indicates the actual Obi-Wan Kenobi of this universe.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter Five<em>**

~ _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ ~  
>It was probably an alarming thing that neither Anakin nor I noticed we were actually veering away from the hangar areas until the Chancellor pointed it out. To be fare, we were a bit strained from dealing with Dooku, and a bit dazed from being chased by elevators. But to <em>not<em> notice being drawn in to a Force-presence was . . .

Odd.

To say the least.

"Where are you two going?"

I stopped. As did Anakin. And it was only then that I realized I was being drawn, like metal to a magnet, to a very strong yet strangely muted Force-signature up ahead.

"Anakin?"

"I swear I just noticed, Master," he insisted.

"Yes," I murmured. "So did I."

No Jedi were supposed to be around here. Our beacons would have noted the signal wired into all the Jedi ships, for one thing. For another, another Jedi would been shining in the Force right now, and in such close quarters, we should have noted their presence immediately, and by now should have made contact and noted who they were and joined up with them.

Only an apprentice wouldn't know that kind of protocol, but no apprentice would have been sent into this kind of mission.

And, unhappy as the thought was, it was rare for an apprentice to survive where a Master died.

"And we would have felt the death," Anakin murmured.

"I'm surprised that you aren't reaching for your lightsaber, actually," I said absently, wondering if I should reach for mine. If it had been one of Dooku's Acolytes, our danger senses would be screaming, so I decided not to. Then I noticed –

"Anakin, _where_ is your lightsaber?"

He fidgeted.

But our argument was slightly disrupted when a young teenage girl came running full-tilt up the corridor, red-gold hair flying behind her, so focused on running that she nearly ran straight into us.

"Easy, Padawan," I said instinctively, noting the braid.

The girl jerked away from my hand as if I'd tried to brand her. Her eyes were weary and suspicious, and – and _there was a collar around her throat_. It was different, strange, not quite the normal type of Force-suppressant collar, but I knew one when I saw one, thanks to a lot of unwelcome experience.

"Who the kriff are you?" she demanded rudely.

Of course, _this_ argument was also interrupted by the appearance of more droids.

I sighed and summoned my lightsaber to my hand. _Protect the Padawan and Palpatine. Protect Anakin. Destroy the droids._ One against thirty. Not bad odds. At least they weren't Super Battle Droids.

Slash, parry, slice.

It was easy, routine, and in five seconds, all the droids were destroyed.

"Now then," I said easily, turning back to the girl, who was eyeing me like I was Dooku himself, "who are you?"

Her eyes flickered between the three of us, seemingly confused.

Anakin heaved a step forward. "Here," he said brusquely, and snapped the collar from her neck with a flick of his fingers. She shuddered as it left her neck, but otherwise seemed okay. And yet – And yet I still got that strange muted sense of the Force from her. It wasn't the normal void that a Jedi usually appeared to be when given a Force-inhibitor. Nor did she seem to make any attempt to reach out to either of us, either to prove that she was a Jedi or to determine that we were.

"Aurora," the girl said finally, as if deciding she might as well go with it. "Aurora Ranor."

"Where's your Master?"

She laughed rather dryly. "If I knew _that_, I wouldn't be running all over the kriffing ship, now would I?"

"Language," Anakin and I said automatically.

Aurora scowled at us. "When I find my Mother, _then_ you can scold me," she said, sounding far too old for her youthful appearance. "For now, I don't _care_. So thanks for getting the collar off. But I still have business to do here, and I don't know you, so – "

Anakin grabbed her arm as she attempted to ease away.

"We're Jedi. We can help you."

She squinted at him. "I don't know you. And I know a lot of Jedi too."

Anakin's face darkened.

Thankfully, the Chancellor intervened before it grew violent. "Perhaps we might continue this discussion later? Such as when we are on a ship?"

Aurora flinched. "I am _not_ leaving this ship."

"You don't have a lightsaber, and you can't even use the Force!" Anakin exclaimed, dragging her forward as we started walking. "How can you possibly do anything without it? The drugs will take a long time to leave your system, and we don't have the time to help you right now. So you are coming with us, and we can go after your Master later."

She twisted her arm, trying in vain to free herself. "The drugs will leave my system in under ten minutes," she said flatly. "I'll be fine after that."

I exchanged a glance with Anakin.

_She's so _arrogant_. It'll get her killed!_

_Oh. Does it remind you of anyone, my dear former apprentice?_ I thought sarcastically.

"You'll get killed."

Aurora snorted. "I'm too valuable to get killed over something so petty," she said, and her tone was so bitter it was like she was reciting a price tag at her own slave auction. "The droids were under orders to _capture_ me, not kill me. I'm the only leverage they have, they can't afford to kill me. My Mother would destroy them."

Now it was Anakin's turn to jerk in surprise, and his hold slackened. "Your _what_?"

Aurora gave him a disgusted look. "My _Mother_, you heard me. My Lady Mother. Now – let me _go_!"

She finally wriggled free from Anakin's grasp, and darted forward –

Only to stop short when a shimmering, humming blue field exploded into existence about ten centimeters from her nose, halting her impromptu escape attempt.

More fields immediately appeared, left and right and front and back, effectively trapping us in.

"Oldest trick in the book," Anakin muttered.

Aurora groaned. "Oh, for stars' sake, you should have let me go!" she exclaimed. "At least then I'd be able to get out of this thing!"

Anakin gaped at her, as did I. _When I find who your Master is,_ I thought, _I will really need to have some words with him or her on respecting Masters and Knights. And on arrogance._ There was no darkness – the girl was clean and shining in the Force, albeit slightly muted due to whatever drugs still lingered – but her arrogance was _astounding_. She couldn't be more than sixteen, I judged, so perhaps her lack of experience might be at fault, but it was amazing that she hadn't yet been trained out of it by . . . well, anything.

"Who _is_ your Master?" Anakin asked, seemingly thinking along the same lines.

"None of your business."

Aurora knelt in the middle of the circle, tracing seemingly random circles, ignoring my silent exchanges of glances with Anakin and ignoring the Chancellor's puzzled stares. She muttered something that sounded rather uncomplimentary under her breath. Then she stood, and glared at the ray shield so ferociously it seemed like she expected it to give way.

"Padawan, what – " I began.

She clapped her hands.

A shimmering field of gold expanded from the center of her hands, pushing to encompass first her entire body and then moving rapidly outward to encompass the Chancellor and then Anakin and then me.

It felt like being plunged into an ice-cold river.

The Force trembled around me, every sense suddenly heightened with pure clarity, like a shot of adrenaline. My heartbeat accelerated along with my breathing, and my connection to the Force seemed to sing with power, growing stronger every second I remained in contact with the field. Everything seemed doable then, anything and everything, and I wondered dazedly if this was what being one with the Force was like.

Aurora stepped to the edge of the ray shield, face tight with concentration, and stretched out a hand towards the shield.

It gave way.

My jaw dropped in astonishment.

Somehow, her own force field was pushing _through_, pushing _past_, the ray shield, and now her hand was past it, and then her forearm, and then her arm, and then –

The Force flared and then dimmed again, back to the muted sense I'd always gotten from the apprentice, and she flew backwards as the ray shield crackled menacingly and she was thrown back as though yanked by invisible strings. The gold Force field vanished, shrinking to encompass the apprentice and then blinking out of sight as the apprentice landed on the floor and shivered as if in pain. As for me, I shook my head. It was like – the world had gone cold, or I had lost an extra limb. It was odd.

"What was _that_?" Anakin exclaimed.

Aurora pushed herself to her feet, scowling. "Ah, kriffing drugs," she swore. She sighed. "Well, if the droids aren't here in five more minutes, I can probably get us past these ray shields. Unfortunately, I haven't quite managed to neutralize everything yet."

"Answer the question."

She shrugged. "I'm the daughter of a Walker. We all have gifts. That was mine. And it's nothing, really," she added with a small laugh. "You should see my Mother's. This is nothing."

I shelved the "Mother" business. We could deal with it later. Most importantly, though, was: "How can you access the Force with the drugs in your system?"

"I'm the daughter of a Walker. We're naturally very resistant. We metabolize it a lot faster, or something. I never really paid attention to it. I just know it works. So Dooku gave us something else." She rubbed at the back of her neck. "It doesn't fully cut us off from the Force – that would kill me, instantly. It merely prevents you from using the Force, but not from sensing it. I'm getting around it, because you got the collar off and they stopped pumping the drugs in, but it takes time. I've never really gotten enough practice at it. So . . . maybe five more minutes."

And that was when the doors opened, and the Super Battle Droids and droidekas appeared on the scene.

I sighed. "Do you have a Plan B?"


	8. Chapter 6

**_Chapter Six_**

~ _Anakin Skywalker_ ~  
>The Padawan never actively struggled, but there was the strangest faraway look in her eyes, like she was communicating via a Master-Padawan bond. Except the Force was still muted around her, like someone had wrapped her in a ring of ysalamiri without any of their bubbles actually covering her, so that she was distant but still there.<p>

Not for the first time, I wondered if she was insane.

As far as I knew, no Jedi kept up relations with their home families. No one really _remembered_ their families, most importantly, and most, having been raised within the strictures of the Jedi Temple, never thought to question it, or ask to see their parents.

Yet this Padawan had spoken of her mother. And in the present tense, too.

I could sympathize with her tone. If her mother was a Jedi too, no doubt they hadn't fared well under the hands of Dooku and General Grievous. I remembered all too well what it was like to know that my mother was in pain – and that I could do almost nothing to help her, even though I _knew_ she needed me.

_Take it easy_, I tried to tell her.

But the words rebounded off formidable mental shields of the like I'd never encountered before, stronger than even Dooku. However, the Padawan didn't flinch, which meant that she wasn't maintaining the shields, which meant . . .

I didn't know what it meant.

At my side, I saw Obi-Wan frown slightly at me – but not to reprimand me. I could feel his unease radiating from his skin, unease that I knew was directed at the Padawan currently striding in front of us, hands cuffed tightly behind her back, scowling at any droid that came within her line of sight like she was the queen of the ship.

And that, of course, was when we were hustled into the command center.

General Grievous turned to us, pulling up to his full, lengthened height. "General Kenobi. And Anakin Skywalker." He coughed out a laugh. "We've been waiting for you."

The girl's scowl deepened. "Of course you were, you idiot, if you attack Coruscant this is what you get," she snapped irritably. "Did you really expect the Jedi to let you run off with the Supreme Chancellor?"

General Grievous loomed over her, menace in every line of his movement. "And you, the Walker's child." He laughed. "You didn't make it far either, now did you? You're even weaker than your father, and _that_ is saying something, considering what your father is, half-breed."

"Don't talk about my father that way!"

"He's the one who made you a half-breed," General Grievous commented gloatingly.

"If anyone here is a half-breed, it's you," the girl snapped. "Any my mother is just as human as my father, so I'm not half-breed anyways."

"Your mother," Grievous said, as though passing on a great revelation, "is such an abomination to your Jedi Order that her kind were banned from existence. Isn't that why she is the last? Or, of course, her kind were so weak that even the Jedi knew better than to try and save them. That would probably fit better."

The girl glowered, seemingly too infuriated to reply.

Then the general swung to us, hovering over me like he expected it might actually scare me, but of course I was at the moment a little distracted. A Jedi Padawan who knew not only her mother but also her father? That should never happen. Ever. Jedi weren't supposed to have any contact with their families, to the point where an enemy general definitely shouldn't know such intimate details about the parentage which the girl herself shouldn't know either. But apparently she did. Maybe this girl was just made for breaking the rules.

Yet if the Council had allowed _her_ to know her parents . . .

"Anakin Skywalker," the general wheezed. "I was expecting you to be a little . . . older."

I raised an eyebrow. He was one to talk. "General Grievous. I was expecting you to be a little taller."

The general growled, furious. I knew he had had his legs lengthened presumably to try and instill fear in his subordinates, but Jedi weren't intimidated so easily. Especially not be a machine that couldn't do much more than make idle threats, because everyone knew that Grievous had been the brawn, not the brains, of the Confederacy.

"Jedi scum," General Grievous huffed, whirling away.

"Try not to upset him, Anakin, we have a job to do," Obi-Wan chided gently, his eyes flitting about to calculate the same things I was calculating: number and position of droids and crew members and the special guards in the back.

The General turned back to us, holding two lightsaber hilts. "Your lightsaber hilts will make a fine addition to my collection," he gloated. "And your head, Ranor, will make a fine collection next to your parents'."

The girl paled for a moment.

For a second, I could see the mask falter, and see the true face of a sixteen-year-old apprentice who still was trying to master the Jedi arts while staying alive. It wasn't the easiest position to be in.

But at least she rallied admirably, if not a little strangely.

"If you kill my Mother, General Grievous," she said, quietly, emphasizing the name as if taking it down for some record for later usage, "then you'll be making a mistake. The Walkers don't talk kindly to someone harming one of their own. They didn't when the order began, and they won't now."

I exchanged another glance with Obi-Wan. _Now_ things were getting a little out of hand. She looked ready to tear Grievous apart with her bare hands, as if she was losing control entirely, and if there was one thing we _didn't_ need, it would be a panicking, rage-filled apprentice running loose with a lightsaber.

He, thankfully, took the cue. "Not this time," he interjected, and the whole room fell quiet. "And this time you won't escape."

R2-D2 let out a squeal, and fog billowed outwards, covering us and causing the crew to cry out in surprise. I gathered my strength and back-flipped over Obi-Wan, lowering my wrists just enough so that Obi-Wan's blade could flicker out and slice the cuffs in half. The second I landed, my own lightsaber tore away from Grievous's grip and landed in my own palm, and then I whirled to the Padawan who –

Was someone already out of her cuffs.

Then I saw that she held her own lightsaber, a brilliant yellow blade that made her skin appear pale and sickly. But her eyes were determined, and I stopped only to place a restraining hand on her shoulder and say, "No killing."

Then we were off, slicing apart battle droids and fending off the super battle droids. They took a little more work to get rid of, but in no time at all, Obi-Wan and I were circling back around to pin Grievous between us. He scooped up an electro-staff, looking between the two of us as though trying to decide which to fight. I grinned, sliding into the Form V ready stance, as Obi-Wan dropped into the Form II ready stance. _We have him now_ –

"You lose, General Kenobi," Grievous announced and drew back his hand as if to throw the electro-staff –

There was a blur in the corner of my eye –

The Force surged in power, making everything seem brighter, as the Force bubble swelled around us, shielding us from the pull of the vacuum. The Padawan stood in the center, hands clasped together, gold flickering around her, her hair floating around her like there was no gravity, and her face was tightened into a grimace of concentration, her lightsaber abandoned on the floor. The Force was swelling with amazing power, resonating with the Padawan like she was some sort of focusing crystal.

And then Grievous's staff shattered as the general collapsed, and the Force bubble vanished.

The Padawan fell to her knees, breathing hard.

Obi-Wan and I stared. That was a feat of the Force I'd never seen or heard of before, and I had done a lot of research into Force techniques. I had sensed some of the power that lay quiescent inside her while trapped in the ray shield, but to actually _see_ it was . . . quite a different experience. A _very_ different experience.

Enough that I could well believe that she was probably only half human.

Grievous was lying on the ground, eyes as blank as a machine could get. His heart was still beating – I could sense that the Force was still strong and steady in his life – but he seemed comatose, or perhaps merely unconscious.

"And that," the girl said, "is for my mother."

She sounded entirely too confident in herself, but there was an element of vulnerability in her voice. I could tell that her trick with the Force had drained her, especially since she was just coming out of captivity and seclusion from the Force. She was probably about to collapse on the ground and sleep for days because of that.

There was a reason why Padawans were not taught certain Force tricks until later.

Obi-Wan's face was a mask of confusion, uncertainty, and dark brooding, and I got the feeling he was about to start on a very thoroughly annoying interrogation of the girl. But she had already shown that she did _not_ take well to questioning, of any kind, and that her parents and her abilities were touchy topics. Considering our situation, I decided that interrogations – and the resulting argument – wouldn't be in our favor. First we had to _live_, and _then_ we could argue.

_Force, Obi-Wan's getting to me_, I thought gloomily.

The Force shifted just as an alarm went blaring through the command center, and we all looked up to see various crew members and droids running past, presumably heading towards the escape pods.

I didn't even need to look at Obi-Wan.

Together, we sprang forward, lightsabers flashing as we cut down the droids. They were normal battle droids – they didn't stand a chance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the girl fighting too, her yellow blade weaving with admiral grace through the motions of a form I recognized vaguely as Form VI, with a few elements of Form III thrown in. It was cobbled together in a truly bizarre and slightly sloppy manner, but then again, the girl _was_ just an apprentice. No doubt she was still learning to put together her own style, much less how to use it to maximum efficiency.

Of course, learning that could not come from a Master. It just took lots and lots of practice.

When the command center was finally clear, I looked towards the control screens. There were a few escape pods left –

"Should we try for it?" I asked Obi-Wan.

"If we can make it, we should," he said in response, understanding my question without even looking at me. "It will be better than trying to save this hunk and land it somewhere on Coruscant." He looked at the girl. "All of us."

Her jaw tightened, and she lifted her chin defiantly, as though _we_ were the ones ignoring sensible advice. "No." Her tone was flat, flatter than anything I'd ever heard. It almost reminded me of Padmé, when she'd demanded Obi-Wan's release on Geonosis three years ago. "I am _not_ leaving this. My mother and my Master are still around here somewhere, and I can't feel them, which means they're still probably unconscious and drugged. And they can't protect themselves from an explosion if they are."

I exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan. Jedi didn't leave other Jedi behind. But to try and land this ship . . .

An alarm blared through the command center.

"Looks like we have no choice," Obi-Wan said after a moment. "All escape pods have been launched."

All eyes came to me.

"Can you fly this thing?"

I snorted. "You mean, can I land whatever left's of it?"

I looked at the controls, and then at Obi-Wan and Palpatine and the girl. Obi-Wan seemed confident, as did Palpatine, while the girl merely seemed exhausted and uncaring, but . . . Lives were at stake here. Not just mine. Obi-Wan's. Palpatine's. The girl's. And her Master and mother, wherever they were. And every life was important. Through the Force, I could feel the ship breaking apart, but – it would hold to land. It would hold. It would have to hold.

I would _make_ it hold.

"Strap yourselves in," I warned them, slipping into the pilot's seat. "This isn't going to be the smoothest landing."


	9. Chapter 7

A/N: Um . . . hi? Sorry for the delay, just broke through the writer's block.

Just a reminder: Obi-Wan Kenobi belongs to this ROTS universe, Ben Kenobi is Kya's husband and Aurora's father.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter Seven<em>**

~ _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ ~  
>It should probably have been no surprise that as soon as the ship was landed, the Padawan was squirming free of her restraints and then heading towards the back of the ship. The Force had steadily cleared around her, revealing a young Padawan pulsing with power and youthful determination – a Padawan that reminded me of Anakin so much I nearly sighed.<p>

Still, the Chancellor raised an eyebrow at her. "I believe our exit is _this_ way, Jedi apprentice," he said gently.

"Where are you going _now_?" Anakin demanded.

The girl didn't even flinch. "I need to find my Mother and my Master, obviously. So, yes, go on ahead, I'll catch up," she said dismissively, waving a hand at us as she marched over to the elevator shaft and then deliberately dropped out of sight, presumably in search of her missing mother and Master.

I gave into my impulse and sighed. _Anakin, would you mind terribly escorting the Chancellor out so I can follow this one?_ I asked, reaching for my lightsaber to check that it was there. As I spoke, I reached for the Force, letting it flow around me to trace out the trail the girl was making, and realizing with a start that she was heading quite quickly and doggedly towards a specific dead spot in the Force. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea for her to do so – she was clearly still so young and inexperienced, and it could be a trap – but it was a bit late to dissuade her.

Anakin nodded, and then said, "If you'll follow me, Chancellor."

In our minds, he said, _I'll catch up._

The girl was surprisingly easy to track. I supposed that she wasn't actually trying to obscure her trail, but most Jedi were able to cover their tracks even without trying.

Then again, she had been exhausted.

The dead spot was located in the true bowels of the ship, far away from anything remotely useful to a prisoner trying to escape – escape pods, engine room, even other prison cells. The doors were thick and practically blast-proof, along with requiring extensive security clearances, and there were multiple series of them. Even a Jedi would be slowed down with such measures, especially if they were unable to access the Force.

They did not, however, prevent a Jedi from getting _in_. Every door was simply sliced apart by a lightsaber.

It took four doors in before I finally entered the dead spot. For a moment, the world spun a little, and I leaned against a wall – perhaps I had been relying a tad too much on the Force to steady me, and perhaps I did have a concussion. But it passed quickly; I had dealt with Force-inhibitors before, and with far less on my side than I did now.

It made me wonder how the girl was doing. She probably had little experience with Force-inhibitors, although, based on the determination she had already shown, she had probably charged ahead anyways.

I finally caught up to her in one of the sealed-off cells, staring at some sort of stasis tank. A woman dressed in the Jedi uniform was lying on the bottom of the tank, hair floating in a brown cloud around her face, eyes closed, skin pale. She could have been peacefully asleep – but for the thick restraints that bound her wrists and ankles to the table, and the Force-inhibitor collar snug around her throat, and the needles that emerged from the edge of the tank to enter her veins to pump a strange clear fluid in. But aside from all that, she seemed relatively unharmed, as if General Grievous hadn't attempted to interrogate or torture her at all.

That was . . . unusual.

"Who is this?" I asked quietly, my words echoing in the small room.

The girl frowned. "She's my mother," she answered, and then, as though my question had made up her mind, she continued, "I would cut her out of here, but any introduction of oxygen turns the Force-inhibitor collar on. Any ideas?"

I raised an eyebrow. Generally, Jedi could only be restrained by a Force-inhibitor – no other way should have a fully-fledged Jedi, for here there was no Padawan braid, unconscious for so long, no matter the drugs. "Her inhibitor collar isn't turned on?" When she shook her head, I asked, "Then why isn't she able to fight off the drugs on her own? It's a standard Jedi ability."

The girl shrugged. "If I knew that, then she would already be awake and telling me," she pointed out. "But things are usually complicated for her anyways."

"And what is wrong with the collar turning on?" came a new voice from the doorway.

Anakin.

"That," the girl said, "would probably kill her. It could kill me too. Why do you think _I_ wasn't in a collar when you met me?"

Then, as though Anakin's question had answered the question of how to free her mother, without waiting for a response, the girl's eyes lit up and then she started frantically searching around, eyes darting from place to place, before she finally settled on some small light generator in the corner. She strode over without any further ado, studied it, and then said, "Have either of you ever seen this type of light generator before?"

I glanced at it. I didn't expect to have, and I hadn't. Everyone had their own way of renovating generators.

"Why do you care about that?" Anakin inquired.

The girl stood. "Because it's hiding something that's blocking the Force," she replied absently, activating her lightsaber. "I can feel it – this is the center. . . Stars above, that's strong. Oh well."

She plunged her lightsaber into the center, and all the lights went out.

"Congratulations, you found the alternative method to the light switch," Anakin groused. "What did that do for us?"

"Anakin, please."

"What?"

Then the lights kicked back in with a vicious humming noise, and the Force rushed back towards me, steadying me with its comfort. Anakin staggered, and then blinked in surprise, as the girl grinned in triumph.

"Thought so," she said, her eyes glowing, and then she bounded back to the stasis tank and placed her palms against it, closing her eyes, and the Force swelled around her like a tidal wave, waiting and waiting and waiting, gathering energy all the while, growing _stronger_ all the while – just waiting for the right signal.

The girl rested her head against the tank and closed her eyes.

That strange gold force field exploded outwards again, humming through the air to encircle the tank, crackling like lightning. The front of the tank disintegrated, and the liquid the woman was contained in began hissing and evaporating, both almost instantly. The restraints flared brightly as the force field came into contact, and then also disintegrated, melting away into dust as though they had never existed. Within seconds, the stasis tank was reduced to nothing more than the table the woman was resting on and the woman herself, surrounded in the strange golden glow of the force field emanating from the girl's hands.

And the woman opened her eyes.

Her presence in the Force was muted, but growing steadily, as if she was recovering and relearning how to reach out. But it was _grounded_, somehow, in a way the girl's wasn't, as if her training was reflected in her presence.

At first, she didn't seem to realize there were other people around. She sat up, smoothly, and drew the girl in, murmuring, "Hello, Aurora."

The girl let out a quick sob, and then buried her face in the woman's embrace. "Did they do anything? What happened? Why didn't you wake up?" The questions came like hail, one after another, panicked and stinging.

The woman seemed to take no notice. "I was having a talk with someone," she said mildly. Then she sighed. "And no doubt my inability to awaken kept Ben under as well. . ." She placed a finger under the girl's chin and tilted her head up, running her eyes over the girl's face and body with a critical air, like a medic. "I see you've managed to escape most of the scrapes you usually end up in, child. I do believe that's a first."

"Mother," the girl protested.

"You can't deny it, child," the woman said, sounding amused, as she stood.

Then she noticed us.

Her entire body went completely still, muscles tensing as though she expected a fight, and her blue eyes went cold and burning. The Force swirled around her, strong and echoing, as she drew herself to her full height and her hands twitched towards the empty spot on her belt. And yet there was something strange about how she prepared – something strangely archaic, not unlike Dooku's opening stance for Makashi. I couldn't understand it, but it was there, all the same, a wrongness that bled through in her movements. There was something of a Jedi in her, but also something else.

Something . . . older, I decided.

The girl tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mother, it's all right. They helped me."

For a long moment, the woman stared at us, jaw tightened, and did not relax. Then, something very much like surprise flashed in her eyes, and she abruptly relaxed, nearly folding against the decimated stasis tank as though exhausted.

"Rescued by celebrities," she said, and her voice had the normal Coruscanti accent of a Jedi born and raised in the Temple. "I'm flattered, Master Kenobi, Jedi Skywalker."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl drop her lightsaber.

Anakin shifted uneasily, and I knew that he had seen the movement to – seen the utter bewilderment and astonishment in the girl's face, in the forced relaxation and surprise in the woman's face – and known that something was very odd about the pair, even odder than the strange talent the girl possessed, odder, perhaps, than anything we had come across, which was really saying something, considering where the wars had led us.

_Yes_, I decided, _they _are_ very strange. And I will be having a word with Master Yoda about this, when we return to the Temple._


	10. Chapter 8

Day 1 of my Final Finale! (No, we aren't near the end, but I've done it for a while.) So, basically, for every day where I have a final, I post a new chapter. Let's see if this breaks my writer's block. . .

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><p><strong><em>Chapter Eight<em>**

~ _Kya Ranor_ ~  
>To say I was surprised was a grave understatement.<p>

"What do you want from me?" I knew they would hear the unspoken message of _I thought I would never see you again_. Although Lady Elizabeth had once been my Lady Mother, because she had been dead long before me, with the passing of my initiation into the Order I had lost contact with her. Any further guidance, I had been told, I would have to seek from the Force itself.

When I had woken to find myself in the netherworld of the Force, I had known it had been because someone had wished to speak to me.

I hadn't expected that someone to be Lady Elizabeth.

My former Lady Mother smiled. She was as beautiful as she had been before, frozen forever as she had been at the height of her power and glory, just as all my brothers and sisters were – long blond hair, blue eyes, silver robes and a lightsaber hanging ever-present at her side. Of course, not all my sisters and brothers had lightsabers, for quite a few had not been Jedi, for various reasons: some had come before the Jedi Order, and others simply had been Walkers without being Jedi. But Lady Elizabeth had been a Jedi, and right now, I could tell that this was no mere visitation; her brow was creased, her mouth tight, and her fingers folded at her sides. It was a Jedi's stance, one that spoke of tension one fought to hide behind a neutral face.

"I have come with a warning from the first of us all," she said, finally. She reached out towards me, and despite being only a few steps away from me, her fingers stopped just short of my shoulder, as if unable to cross some unseen chasm between us that contained all the years that separated us. "Be wary, sister. This will be your greatest test."

I fought down the flush of pride at being called _sister_. It was, I knew, her way of acknowledging that we were equals, now. But her words were more important.

"I know."

She smiled slightly, and her hand fell. "Do you, really?" The smile vanished abruptly, and suddenly she was standing tall and straight, towering over me even though she only had a few inches on my height. "Your daughter and mate have crossed with you. You will not stand alone in this. And thus . . . your life is not the only that will be at stake."

I gaped at her. Ben I had expected to cross with me, as he had last time –

But _Aurora_?

She was my daughter, half a Walker, and quite a strong Jedi Padawan in her own right. But she was _young_. And untrained. Ben had trained her well, but – she was still a Padawan for a _reason_. I couldn't imagine that she was ready for this. She had never faced this kind of test before, where her life was at stake and forfeit over a single misstep. And worse, not necessarily even her _own_ misstep.

Mine.

I had come into this willingly, at first, knowing the cost. I had been raised a Jedi, willing to forfeit my own life in the Clone Wars if it would turn the tide of only one skirmish, end one battle, make the tiniest impact on the terrible war ripping apart our galaxy. I had been willing to give my life to save the Force. And then, when Ben had come along – well, his life had been tied to mine, so really, any choice I made was for both of us, and I knew he had trusted his life in my hands long before we had even really known what I was.

But now . . .

Aurora was quite a different story.

"Why?" I managed to blurt out finally. "Ben is my soulmate, I understand _that_ – but why my _daughter_?"

Lady Elizabeth blinked serenely at me. "It was not my decision, and I do not speak for all of us," was all she said. Which basically was her way of saying _I don't know why_. "But that is my warning to you." She hesitated, and took a step closer, as if imparting a secret – which was laughable, nothing was secret here. "Sister, be careful, please. Your cousins are not so easily fooled. You must be ready to use your words as well as your weapons."

"My cousins?"

But she was already fading, her outline blurring into a hazy line that was dissipating like smoke, and in seconds she was gone, and I was alone. And then a rumble of thunder rolled through the Force, and then I was falling like the floor had opened up underneath me as the Force rushed around me, cocooning me like a giant golden wave, and then –

My eyes flickered open to see Aurora standing over me.

Then the golden light vanished, and I saw Aurora stagger back, the golden shield fading away to leave me lying on some sort of table, the restraints crumbled to fine ash that I brushed away. Fortunately, there was no other resistance – clearly, they had underestimated the power even a child of a Walker held.

Unfortunately, Aurora hadn't done it alone.

The sight of my old Master standing there, Skywalker at his shoulder like the old days, nearly made my knees crumble to the ground in the age-old urge to yield. I had obeyed Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, as my teacher when I was young for so long that it was instinctive. And here he stood, like a sight plucked from my memories, strong and young again, with Anakin standing close by, eyeing me as though he thought I might leap forward and try to swing at them.

And then I knew what Lady Elizabeth had meant.

The Jedi and the Walkers hadn't been always close. Many times, actually, they had clashed – the morals and the teachings of the Walkers were a little different, and of course we broke the greatest rule of the Jedi Order, the one about attachment. But we were still cousins, in all but name.

And now I had to try and deal with their suspicion, at the worst possible time, because I knew this ship and I knew when my old Master had last looked like that and I knew when Anakin had last stood before me clad in the robes of a Jedi.

We were at war.

"Rescued by celebrities," I said, fighting to keep my voice level. "I'm flattered, Master Kenobi, Jedi Skywalker."

Aurora dropped her lightsaber. Her shock rang clear in my mind through the bond between us, and I stilled her curiosity with a sharp mental rebuke. Now was not the time to explain, not this close to the other Jedi. Anakin and Obi-Wan – _these_ versions – weren't strong enough to eavesdrop on a bond yet, but that didn't mean they were stupid or weak. They had been known as the Team for a reason, after all.

Master Kenobi gave me a quick look, which I could read so easily it was laughable. _All these years_, I realized, _and I still know my old Master._

"We are glad to be a help to a fellow Jedi," he said neutrally. "I understand there is another member of your party here?"

I nodded and turned to where Ben lay in a stasis tank. From Aurora's distaste ringing in my mind, I guessed I had been in something similar, and I shuddered at the thought of a Force-inhibiting collar around my throat. Even now, with all my powers, it would still be a near death-sentence for me.

Aurora stepped quickly around me and clapped her hands again, destroying the tank and the restraints with determination written all over her face. I nodded my approval. There was no need for hatred in this. General Grievous and Dooku had been our enemies, that was all; but hatred would only strengthen them.

I was not, of course, Aurora's Jedi Master, and that was for a very good reason, but that didn't mean I couldn't offer some advice, at least.

Ben was reaching for us before he was even fully on his feet, eyes full of concern, but I merely shook my head and took his hand, letting his fingers wind tight around my own instead of his arm around my back, as he had wished. Aurora ignored us and hugged Ben, but I let it pass; better for them to assume Ben was her Jedi Master than to try and separate them and arouse suspicion. For now, it would have to be enough.

Then Ben caught sight of the other Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his face froze.

_Not now_, I said quickly into his mind.

_Is that_ . . .

_Yes._

Ben swallowed and lifted a hand, summoning his lightsaber, and then he turned fully to me. _What are we going to tell them?_

_The truth._

"Are we ready to be going now?" Anakin said grumpily into the silence.

Aurora glared, but Anakin glared right back. Ben and I traded exasperated glances, and then Ben stepped forward and rested a hand on Aurora's shoulder, light and warning and establishing his place as Aurora's Master. I saw Master Kenobi's eyes rest on it, and I knew he had recognized the message as such, and I sighed in relief.

"Yes," I answered, and then reached out with the Force. I wanted to get off this ship, now, and into some place where we could discuss this problem.

~ _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ ~  
>"Are you all right?" I asked in a low voice.<p>

The woman turned to me, one eyebrow raised. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You seem . . . nervous." It was the only word I could think to use to describe the woman's state. And I couldn't explain it any other way than that. It was something only a Jedi would have noticed, perhaps; she was a little _too_ relaxed, and yet she stared straight ahead, seemingly unbothered by anything.

She glanced away, and her shoulders slumped into a more natural state. "This war bothers me," she said finally. "All this death and destruction. . . My shields aren't exactly as good as they should be, and all of this is doing wonders for my senses."

I nodded in understanding. The Force sang with the amount of Jedi falling each day; without shields, no doubt it was bothering every single Force-sensitive strong enough to feel it.

Then Aurora's Master was pushing forward, taking the woman's hand and saying something in a voice so low I couldn't hear. But it made the woman smile, slightly, and the man brushed a gentle hand over her hair before leading her out of the ship onto the transport. They seemed . . . unnaturally close, all three of them. The way Aurora clung to the man made sense, if he was indeed her Master, but there was no such reason for the woman and the man to sit so close together. They seemed practically so close that the curves of their body fit where they sat pressed together, sealing them like puzzle pieces into one being, and only that seemed to make the woman relax as she folded to lean against the man.

"So, who are you?" Anakin asked.

The woman stirred, as if from a great sleep, and then she said, "I am Kya, and this is my partner, Ben, and his apprentice, Aurora." She gave us a tight smile. "I don't really need any introduction on your part, though. You are well known to us both."

Ben raised an eyebrow, but he inclined his head to us, and said, "It's nice to finally meet Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Aurora didn't pay us any attention, though, and then I realized that it was because she was staring out the window, mouth open in despair or surprise as she surveyed the damage the Separatist attack had inflicted on Coruscant. Ben seemed equally startled as he followed her gaze, but Kya just seemed resigned to it, retreating into herself as though she had seen it before and it was just another blow against her cracking resolve.

"I don't remember it being like this," Aurora said, her eyes huge as she glanced at Kya.

"Things change, my child," Kya said, almost absently, in response with a sad smile. "War is the biggest catalyst of them all."

"I know."

But Kya shook her head. "No, you don't. Not yet." She swallowed. "Not like this."

Aurora gave her a look. "Does this have anything to do with Dooku?"

"Not now, child," Kya chastised her, a wary look falling over her face, and Ben looked equally grim as he reached out to lay a hand on Kya's knee, something chasing around in his face, a battle was that equally familiar and strange.

And then I realized that the way Ben looked down at Kya was the same way Anakin looked at Padmé.

The moment we landed, I reached for Master Windu with my mind when I sensed him waiting on the pad, and said, _I need to speak with you. This problem is beyond my authority to solve._

_What is it, Master Kenobi?_ he asked.

I cast another quick look at the three, sitting so close together, as Anakin stood and walked off the transport. They were so strange, and taken aback at things that even _I_ remembered from when I had last left Coruscant for the Outer Rim.

_I think we have Jedi imposters here. _


	11. Chapter 9

Day 2 of my Final Finale! Kya and Ben and Aurora are arrested as Jedi imposters. . . .

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><p><strong><em>Chapter Nine<em>**

~ _Aurora Ranor_ ~  
>"Why is everything so <em>different<em>?" I said.

My mother gave me a look. It spoke clearer than words, and said, _Not now_. My father merely looked to my mother, brow creased, looking far less confused than I was – although, to be fair, with his bond with my mother, there were very few things he _didn't_ know if she knew. And right now, concern was rapidly unfolding across his face, until he looked downright _angry_.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked suddenly.

My mother nodded. "We have no choice. In this universe – if I remember correctly – Jedi are not allowed to marry, or have children, or even to know their parents." She sounded utterly regretful, but resigned, like she knew it.

"Why?"

My father gave me a reprimanding look, and I snapped my mouth shut. Clearly, questions were going to have to wait.

"So, as usual, then?" my father murmured.

My mother nodded, leaning briefly against my father when he kissed her, and then deliberately pushing away. It made me blink, disconcerted. My parents were not exactly overly affectionate, but it was rare to see them deliberately separated. They loved each other, and the bond meant that it was difficult to remain apart, and even though I hadn't known my mother until I was of age to be an apprentice, I had gotten used to seeing them together, always together, forever and ever.

My mother looked at me. "You can still address me as Lady Mother," she said finally, "but remember to keep it distant. They will assume the truth – but we will have to convince them that it is merely a title." She shifted, her gaze going somewhat distant. "In the meantime, defer to your father for everything – we'll have to play that up as his being your Jedi Master."

"Yes, Mother."

My father placed a hand on my knee, offering his comfort. "It won't be for long. Just until we can convince them of the truth."

After a moment of silence, I ventured, "Can I ask questions now?"

My parents smiled.

"So who are the people who got us out?"

"Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his former apprentice, Anakin Skywalker," my mother answered calmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "In this universe, the Clone Wars has been going on for three years – it's a civil war, between the Separatists who want to leave the Republic, and, of course, the Senate. We're in a bit of a stalemate, with Dooku dead but the Republic unable to find the Separatist Council or General Grievous. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine will be making the push for the war to continue – "

"_Palpatine_?" I exclaimed, as my father stiffened at my side. "Wasn't he a – "

"Yes, but don't mention that," my mother interrupted sharply. "They don't know yet." She sighed. "We'll have to find a way to figure out how to tell the Council."

My father frowned, and I felt the Force shift as my father turned his attention to the bond. _They won't believe you_, he said, quietly. "What can we do?" he asked aloud, for the benefit, no doubt, of the Jedi outside eavesdropping.

"Pretend we know nothing. Pretend that we have no idea what's going on due to our captivity." My mother hesitated. "Pretend that you're just Master Kenobi's brother, but you never knew."

I stared. My father was _the_ Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man responsible for so many various achievements. I couldn't imagine hiding that. There was a reason I preferred to hide by using my mother's maiden name, instead of connecting myself to my father and opening the door for anyone to attempt to gain leverage of my father through me. That reason was, of course, growing less and less necessary as I grew, but it still had hold.

"They'll never go for it."

"They must. Or else . . . well. They have to."

My next question was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. My mother's eyes snapped to where Master Kenobi and – my eyes widened – Master Windu entered, and her eyes narrowed as if she was disturbed by something, but my father remained calm, so I supposed there was nothing to worry about.

"So." Master Windu sounded . . . different. Tired. Old. He looked weary, like life had been dragging him slowly into the depths of despair. "Master Kenobi tells me he found you imprisoned."

My mother tilted her head. "That's one way of putting it."

Master Windu frowned – and _there_. There it was. The Master Windu I knew didn't care much for flippancy, and here it showed. But even this frown was darker. And the Force was muddied too, weighed down and dark and bitter, in a way that made me want to shy away from touching it – which was a bad thing, all thins considered, as I was the daughter of a Walker.

"Well?" Master Kenobi prompted, and Force, it was weird seeing a man who looked so alike and not yet alike to my father.

My parents shared a single glance, and then my mother looked away. "I don't remember much. Of anything," she said, her voice forced, and I knew instantly that it wasn't going to be enough.

Master Windu raised his hand – and between one blink and the next, all of our lightsabers leapt from our belts into his hand. I jumped to my feet, the Force humming to life around me as my parents tensed, and was reaching out a hand to summon my lightsaber back when my mother lashed out. The Force clouded around me, and then a bolt sang into my mind, stunning me into stillness.

"No, my child," she snapped, and her voice was firm and utterly formal, as if she was merely just my Lady Mother and not my biological mother. "Enough." When I glared at her, she looked coldly at me, the Force thrumming around her with the power that belied her weakened state. "I said, _enough_, child. Sit."

So I sat. There was no arguing with my mother when she was like this.

My mother looked to Masters Windu and Kenobi, the Force drawing tight around her like a shield, but her face was impassive, totally shut off, and totally unlike my mother. "We'll come with you," she said, "but in return, I ask that if you are going to ask questions, you ask them of my partner and me. Not my child."

"You are in no place to make demands," Master Windu said evenly.

My mother blinked. "Either you accept, or you'll have to overpower us," she pointed out. "And my child doesn't know the answers you want."

The two Masters exchanged a glance, and I swallowed. I knew my mother and father wouldn't want to hurt them, but – well. If they threatened my mother, my father would have no choice but to interfere, and if they threatened me, my parents would step between them. And my father would have no qualms about doing whatever it took to protect my mother from any perceived threat. Yet I couldn't tell if the Masters would agree or not; I couldn't read this Master Windu at _all_, which was so strange, given how close our family had been to him when I'd been growing up.

Finally, though, the two Masters broke eye contact, and Master Kenobi nodded. "As you wish."

When we got to the Temple hangars, I stopped and stared in dismay at the smoking city. I had never seen Coruscant ever successfully attacked – the Order had always prevented it. To see that someone had managed to pierce our defenses was so . . . strange. My father looked equally discomfited, but my mother didn't give it a second glance. In fact, my mother was . . .

In pain.

Somehow, I knew it, even without needing to be asked. She was walking stiffly, and I knew it for certain when my father reached out for her. But she merely glared at him, and he withdrew, frowning heavily.

The Jedi Knight who approached us with the restraints looked faintly apologetic. It was that – and only that – which kept me from shying away when she clasped them around my wrists.

Seconds later, I knew it had been a mistake.

Fire – pure, agonizing _fire_ – burned through my veins. I felt my self collapse, first to my knees, and then heavily to the floor entirely, with no control over my limbs at all. I felt like a doll, impersonal and limp. Dimly, in the back of my mind, I heard someone screaming, only it sounded more like a wounded wild animal, and I struggled to move my hands towards my ears, to cover them, to cut the sound off, only to realize –

_Oh. That screaming is me._

Then the fire stopped, abruptly, all at once, and I found I could breathe again.

I opened my eyes – and that was strange, because I had no memory whatsoever of closing them – to find my mother at my side, her face grim. The restraints were off my wrists, lying discarded on the floor, and I could feel the Force pouring steadily into me, soothing away the aches of being torn so suddenly away from that which gave me life, kept my heart pumping, kept my lungs working. My father was further away, face flickering between fear and fury, and the other Jedi were standing far away, exchanging glances that were either confused or wary. It was like being the center of a very strange soap opera.

"Better?" my mother asked.

I somehow found the strength to nod, and then to push myself to my knees, but when I tried to stand I nearly fell over before someone darted forward to grab me.

"Oh. Thanks," I said, and turned to find myself face to face with another Padawan, who was a bizarre mix of picture-perfect Jedi robes that had not a single marred inch to them and spiky dark locks of hair sticking up in every which way.

My mother raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

My father, meanwhile, wasn't so silent. "If you have to take away our lightsabers, that is fine," he said shortly. "But no Force-inhibitors – they will kill us."

The Padawan holding me upright seemed downright alarmed at that, but Master Windu's eyes merely narrowed at my father. Yet he didn't comment or protest, allowing another Jedi to put regular cuffs on my wrists under the watchful gaze of my parents.

"Would a Force-shielded room be too difficult for her?" Master Windu asked sardonically.

My mother sighed. "If she isn't in there too long."

"If _we_ aren't in there too long," my father said firmly, eyes locked on me, but I could see how his body was turned towards my mother. And I understood – I was merely a Walker's daughter, only half a child of the Force. My mother was a full Walker; too long away from the Force, and she would die, her heart unable to pump blood and her lungs unable to fill with air and everything about her dying off as a flower did without water. And that would kill my father, almost instantly, and considering we were clearly in a different universe, the death of my parents would eventually kill me.

So, all things considered, my father wasn't that far off.

Master Windu didn't comment on that either, instead choosing to whirl around and storm away in a brown cloud of Jedi robes, tailed closely by Master Kenobi and a few other Jedi. The others closed around us, clasping my parents' wrists in restraints before leading us down to the basements.

The door slid shut behind me, and then I was alone.


End file.
